Red and Black
by littlevamp
Summary: Claire decides to visit Chris at work between classes. She thought things would be fine and dandy, until she met the infamous Captain Wesker. Chris is already on his hit-list, and Claire might be next. One Redfield is bad, but two? Wesker loves the challenge. Takes place during STARS. Let's see where this story goes...
1. The Redfields

**So here's an attempt at a Resident Evil fic; I've left my comfort zone of writing Legacy of Kain fics, and decided to try this series out for size. I've read tons of fics lately and, although the Wesker/Chris pairings are one of my favorites, I really like the Wesker/Claire pairings as well. I'm not good at writing Yaoi (or anything sexual in that matter, probably because I feel weird doing so -_-) Any who, this is a romance/drama fic with Wesker and Claire. They meet through Chris, and things change for the better. Wesker might not be capable of saying, "I love you," but I'm sure he can love…it's somewhere in his heart. Takes place during STARS and might go further into the series. I'll leave you to it, and won't go too much into detail…enjoy…**

**Note: Italics will be used for thoughts and or flashbacks. (If any, I haven't decided yet.) Rating might change later :P**

**The Redfields**

It was ten till 7 in the chilled morning, as Chris drove his black Jeep down the sleek streets of Raccoon City. The markets were open and running; numerous early bird customers came in and out of the stores as he passed a small shopping center. He drove passed the downtown area and caught a glimpse of several rugged, homeless citizens around a lit drumcan, huddled close together with their frost-bitten fingers desperately and dangerously nearing the orange flames for warmth.

Chris sighed. He reached down and picked up his cup of lukewarm coffee, taking a drink. Chris smacked his lips a few times before setting the cup down; too much creamer. Had he not been entirely hungover, he would've realized that the creamer lid was not entirely on, and instead of slowly squeezing the container, Chris smashed it in his grip, sending a spray of white into his black. The result: a light-brown, cavity causing, caffeine filled, cup o' Joe. It didn't matter to Chris. All he needed was a jumpstart for a few hours, anything to keep him awake; all he needed was his dear captain to give him more than his share of shit—God forbid he made the mistake of falling asleep.

He pulled into the RPD parking lot, tires skidding against the sleek asphalt as he made a sharp turn to park next to Jill's Civic. He grabbed his STARS duffle back and jumped out of his Jeep. He leaned into the driver's side mirror and made sure his hair looked decent, that his eyes didn't look too blood-shot…

"Oops…" he muttered, noticing the dark red smudges along his collar bone that managed to peek out just above his t-shirt. He threw the duffle over his shoulder in hopes of hiding the "bites," and proceeded into the precinct.

Inside he was greeted by the young and beautiful receptionist, Rachel; she'd only been around for a couple weeks, but Chris made sure to leave his mark. Though they weren't in anything serious, Chris had a philosophy: Never leave any territory unmarked. Nothing was more insulting than getting another man's seconds. He rubbed his "bites," trying to hide them as he passed her desk, smiling awkwardly…

"Good morning, officer Redfield," Rachel said in a playful manner. "Did ja have a good weekend?"

_Fuck. _

Chris was torn between stopping to speak with Rachel and making up some excuse to head to his office. Not that he wanted to do either, but the latter gave him an excuse to dismiss the blond. A hard slap on the shoulder made him jump slightly.

"Hey, fuck-face! Don't you look especially cute today?"

_Forest._

"You bastard," Chris whispered and took a breath. "You scared me half to death." Then, remembering about Rachel, Chris gave a follow-my-lead look, and walked with Forest to the STARS offices.

"Is she looking?" Chris said when they were out of ear-shot. Forest turned slightly, and shook his head.

"She's on the phone." He smiled and eyed Chris. "You tryin' to get away from her or what?"

"Flavor of the week, Forest. You know how that is." He adjusted the strap on his duffle back and nodded to a few passing officers. "I told her it was nothing serious. She agreed."

A resonant "Ahhhh," escaped Forest. "I see…that's how it's done, sugar plum." He gave Chris a noogie and was swatted away. "You're learning from the best." Forest propped the collar of his vest.

Chris shook his head. "Get out of here with that." They arrived at the STARS offices—both Bravo and Alpha had their doors propped open with a trash bin. Chris entered Alphas'; Forest right behind. Jill was typing away at the computer, and that meant one of two things: either she was doing research for God knows what, or she was looking up shit she wasn't supposed to. Chris glanced at her computer screen as he passed before putting his bag down at his desk.

_Macy's website. Figures…_

"Shouldn't you be getting Wesker's coffee, Jill?" Chris taunted as he took a seat and booted up his computer. Forest took a seat beside Chris in Barry's empty chair, pressing his lips together to suppress a laugh.

"Shouldn't you be putting some makeup on those tramp-hickeys on your neck, Chris?" Her tone was harsh; she didn't turn around. But Chris saw her grin off her computer screen's reflection and chuckled. "Besides, Wesker's not in yet."

"Ooooh, someone's touchy," Forest teased as he pulled a blank paper and pencil from Barry's drawer and began to draw. "What's your problem, Jill?"

She spun around this time. "Nothing. You know that's how we Alphas are, Forest. Speaking of which, why are you here? Bravo covers the night shift." Forest opened his mouth to reply. "Oh, wait, let me guess…doing a double shift?"

"Nah, not Forest. C'mon, Jill," Chris said as he logged onto the STARS database. "You know he can't do _that._"

"Ha, ha, ha," Forest mocked before sticking his tongue out. He was drawing a face with droopy eyelids and the eyebrows…he erased the thin eyebrows he originally drew and replaced them with thick ones. "Well, if it means anything to your inquiring minds, I need to talk to Wesker about something."

Chris turned to him and propped up his chin. "Taking a few days off?"

Forest finished the drawing and smiled in satisfaction. He picked it up, admiring his less than acceptable portrait of Brad Vickers. "Something like that…" He tore a piece of Scotch tape from the desk and walked over to the blank computer screen next to Jill. He pressed against the glass, and smiled at the crude art. "Poor, Chicken." He chuckled then.

"Why not ask Enrico? He's your leader," Jill said before closing down the browser, ignoring Forest's joke on poor Brad.

"I did. He said I still had to get an OK from Wesker, so…" He looked at Chris. "Looks exactly like Chicken, huh Chris?" The two laughed, and Jill rolled her eyes as she sat up in her chair.

"What's so funny, Speyer?" A thick, gravelly, English faux voice cut through the air that turned all sound into silence. Wesker entered and stopped between Jill and Chris' desks, eyeing Speyer with suspicion through his dark sunglasses.

Forest slowly covered the drawing with his back as he held the cheesiest smile the world has ever known. "Oh, nothing…" he looked around. "Chris told a funny joke. You know how that goes, Captain. He always has his mind in the gutter, don't you, _Christopher_?"

Chris seethed behind his computer screen, mouthing death threats to Forest. Fortunately for him, Wesker had his back towards him. The captain did a one-eighty turn so that he could easily look over his right shoulder at Chris. Well, damn…

"Apparently I'm not the only one who noticed your filthy mouth as of late, Chris. Although I would've liked for you to repeat it to see if you have any comedic talent—let alone talent at all—Jill is present in the room. And repeating such filth would insult her as a lady, and would only further prove what scoundrels you both are."

Chris was boiling like tea in a pot, ready to burst at any minute, and Wesker knew it. He relished giving the marksman hell—all day, every day. It was just what he did.

Wesker turned to Jill and dipped his head. "Miss Valentine," he said with what could be called a "smile," and made his way to his office in the back. He left his door open and put the briefcase and duffle bag he was carrying on his desk. The shuffling of blinds could be heard, followed by the rubbing of the cords as the blinds were raised.

Jill turned to Forest before going back to her computer. "Good luck." Forest groaned and almost dragged his combat boots across the tile as he slowly made his way to Wesker's office.

"Hmph. Wesker. Fucker…" Chris scoffed as he turned his attention to the screen.

Just then, Brad walked in and stopped dead when he saw the drawing. Chris looked up. Jill did the same. Brad grabbed the drawing and crumbled it in his fist.

"Again?!" He asked to no one in particular. "Real mature!" Chris ducked behind his screen and snickered to himself. His anger had drained.

OoOoOoOo

Claire sat at her desk, switching off between taking notes from the boring lecture she had to endure, or drawing stick figures in action. She preferred the latter, but stick figures were not going to help her when midterms came around. She sighed and tried to focus on the burly, red-faced professor as he paced the floor, talking about Darwinism and Nietzsche. Oh, how the two mixed…

A buzz from her pocket indicated a text message and Claire pulled her phone out, concealing it on her lap. It was a message from Chris.

_Wanna have lunch after your class?_ Claire typed back.

_Sure. I'll meet you at work._

_Great. Later, stinky-butt._

_Later, sack face._

She nearly spit up her water as she drank from the bottle, thinking of Chris' face as a ball-sack. She put her phone back in her pocket and continued to watch the professor's red face.

OoOoOoOoO

"Hey, Chris." Barry popped his head into the Alpha Team office. "You want something from McDonald's? Jill and I are taking orders."

Chris paused in his paper work and leaned back in his chair, yawning with a groan. Wesker said something inaudible—probably an insult—from his office. Chris looked at his Captain who was staring at him and then back at his screen. Chris rolled his eyes when he turned back to Barry.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm actually waiting for Claire. She's coming down in a bit for lunch. Thought I'd take her to Burger Kong."

Wesker stopped typing on his computer and listened, shuffling some papers to make the silence less suspicious.

"Burger Kong? Really, Chris? I think Claire deserves a bit more than fast food don't you think?"

Chris shook his head. "That girl loves her cheeseburgers. It's a miracle she's so thin."

Wesker removed his glasses and rubbed his strained eyes. He set the lenses aside and rolled his shoulders. _Another lady friend, Chris? Or perhaps the same one who gave you those disgusting red marks on your neck? _Wesker wrinkled his nose.

"I guess you're right. She's always eating junk," Barry said and added a chuckle. "Well, have a good time and tell her I said "hi" incase I don't see her." To Wesker. "Hey, Captain, you want anything from McDonald's?"

"No, but thank you for the offer, Barry." Wesker's tone was softer, nicer…Why couldn't he be like that with Chris?

"Alrighty." Barry turned to Chris. "Catch ya later, pal." Chris gave a wave and sat back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"That paperwork isn't going to finish itself, Chris," Wesker called from the office with that annoying, threatening tone he always used. Wesker turned his wrist to glance at the time. "Until your "friend" arrives I suggest you get back to it."

Chris bit his lip and closed his eyes. _Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…_

Why did Wesker still have to be here? That Tyrant. Why couldn't he just go to lunch like everyone else? Chris turned in his chair to see Wesker back at his typing.

Chris sighed and went back to his paperwork. _He probably sits in his car, all alone with a turkey sandwich…maybe some lettuce, tomato, bacon, mayo…_He shook his head. _He's too in shape, skip the mayo…_

A knock on the door frame shook Chris. He stood with a smile. "Claire!" he embraced his younger sister with a tight hug, followed by a noogie.

"Ow, Chris!" She punched his shoulder. "Frost already gave me one when I walked in. Why do you have to be such a jerk?"

"Aw, c'mon, Claire…Who's the best sister in the whole world?"

Wesker moved to see around the computer screen. _Sister Redfield._

"Yeah, yeah, you meat-stick," she laughed and pushed Chris away. "But I forgive you, since you're buying lunch anyways."

Chris laughed and grabbed his keys from his drawer. "Yeah, because college kids are broke all the time; who else is gonna feed you?"

A light turned off in Wesker's office and Claire looked up. Heavy footsteps came across the tile as the figure emerged from the darkness, shutting every light behind him off. Claire saw the shiny black boots, the cargo pants, the gun and holster, the navy-blue, rolled up long sleeve shirt, fair skin, a square jaw, high-cheek bones, a pointed nose, black lenses and slicked back blond hair. She was transfixed. He was very handsome, very tall…something about him was so formal, so professional…

Chris saw Wesker approach and nudged Claire. "Oh, this is Captain Wesker—leader of our squad. And this is my sister, Claire."

Wesker paid no heed as he brushed passed Chris and nearly came between him and Claire. The captain extended his hand, flat-lined lips and an intense gaze behind the shades.

Claire snapped back to reality and gave an annoyed stare instead. She didn't like Wesker's vibe; sure he might seem professional and whatnot, but the look he gave (even from behind sunglasses) didn't sit right with Claire. She reluctantly extended her hand.

"Charmed," Wesker said dryly and took Claire's hand into her own, squeezing and letting go. He smirked at the uncomfortable look she gave him. "My dear, what has you in distress?" He gave her a quick look, up and down. Chris missed it.

"Oh, uh…" Claire stammered. "I-I just…it's been a long day at school. Sorry. I didn't mean to disrespect you." _Didn't mean to disrespect him? He just filled you up, idiot! And since when do you have manners for anyone, especially this creepy perv?_

"Nonsense," Wesker said with a smile. "You haven't disrespected me at all." He glanced at Chris. "However, the same cannot be said about your brother." Claire smiled when she saw Chris grimace. "It's a good thing one of you is capable of showing manners." Wesker glanced at his Seiko watch. "Ah, I believe I will take my leave. I'm quite famished. It was nice to meet you, Claire. Chris" He dipped his head and left the room. Claire inhaled and smelled the remnants of designer cologne; it smelled like Hugo Boss. She listened to his departing footsteps as they echoed down the halls of the slow precinct.

"Hmph. See? That bastard gets me every damn time. I swear, I'm gonna punch…"

Claire drowned her brother out, thinking about Wesker and how he carried himself, how intimidating he was. Still…he was handsome. _That_ much was certain.

OoOoOoOoO

Chris pulled into his previous spot at the RPD, sipping his coke with a free hand. Claire threw all her trash into the Burger Kong bag and rolled it up. Just as the two were about to exit…

"Hey, Chris," Claire said carefully. Chris stayed at the wheel. "Is Wesker…always like that to everyone he meets, or…" Claire trailed off, hoping her brother got the message.

"He creeps you out doesn't he?"

Claire nodded. "In a way, yeah. Like, he's a gentleman—don't get me wrong. I just have this weird feeling…" She shrugged. "The feeling of, I don't know, intimidation?"

Chris smiled. "Yeah, that's what everyone says when they see or meet him. I was like that for the first week or so; he definitely took some getting used to. But after a while, you get used to his bullshit antics and high-and-mighty tone." He drank the last of his coke before handing it to Claire to put in the bag. "Don't worry though. He can be nice, believe it or not."

"Well, sure, he's nice…" Claire drifted off. _Right?_

"He is. Like I said, you have to be around him more; that's just the way he is. I mean, if you don't wanna come inside anymore, just call me and I'll meet you out here."

"Chris, please. I'm not a child; I'm not scared of anyone. He was just a little overwhelming firsthand. I'll get over it. It's probably some internal female thing going on."

"Your period?" Chris asked, deadpanned.

Pebbles beneath rubber scrapped against the asphalt as a black BMW M5 pulled in a few spots down, right next to Barry's SUV. Blond hair gleamed in the light.

_Speak of the devil, _Claire thought. The two Redfields watched as Wesker came around to the front of the Jeep, phone to his ear, making his way inside the building. Knowing Wesker, Chris was sure that the captain felt eyes on him, but decided not to pay heed. The blond always paid attention to his surroundings and every detail. To Chris, he almost seemed inhuman.

Claire caught the last glimpse of his figure: the way he walked showed he was in charge; his body was trimmed of fat and the toned, sculpted muscles of his back flexed as he swung his arms. Even the muscles in his forearms could be seen, and this delighted Claire. She loved muscles.

Chris looked over at Claire. He smiled. "Still intimidated by him?"

OoOoOoO

"So how does it feel to finally be in college?" Jill asked as she spun side-to-side in her computer chair. Next to her, Brad was falling asleep, head in the palms of his hands. Chris rolled a tight ball of paper and tossed it at him. The pilot awoke immediately; Chris ducked behind his computer screen and Barry shook his head.

"It feels good," Claire began as she leaned in the doorway, swirling her bottle of water. "It's a lot easier, time wise, than high school was. I guess the classes aren't so bad."

"Any cute guys that interest you?" Jill was careful when approaching the subject; she knew big brother Chris got a stick up his ass at the mention of another male in Claire's life.

"Better not be," Chris warned and prepared another paper ball. "I'll ring his neck."

"Easy, Rocky," Barry said in a fatherly tone and gripped Chris' shoulders. "Claire is more than capable of taking care of herself. You know this; we know this…give her a break."

"Exactly," Claire nodded.

"Shut up, Claire." And the paper ball sailed through the air, straight towards Claire's head. A gloved hand was in front of Claire's face and caught the paper mid-air. Wesker tossed it a few times in his palm, almost examining it as if it were something he never saw before.

Chris swallowed hard; his eyes never left Wesker. The captain tossed the ball in the trash and looked at everyone around the room until he stopped on Chris. "You're such a child, Chris. I thought I taught you better than that, but it seems that, quite frankly, you don't care about discipline; nor do you care about setting an example for others to follow." Chris shrank in his seat. "Therefore, tomorrow will be a full day of intense training—one that I and Enrico will prepare ourselves. Bravo team will join us." He turned to everyone. "So you can thank your colleague for that…"

Groans filled the room and complaints of, "Why do we have to?" and "It's not our fault" floated around Chris' head. He immediately got on the defense and stood, pointing a dangerous finger at Wesker.

"That's not fair, Wesker," Chris began though clenched teeth. "You're going to punish us for throwing a paper ball at my sister? Fuckin' really? It's not like I pulled my gun on her. And even if I did, I was just playing—

"Exactly, Chris! All you do is play; you rarely take anything seriously and it upsets me greatly. You think because you crack a few jokes and sign off a few papers that people will respect you, that you will gain my respect? No. Wrong. You earn respect and lately, you've been pissing me off." He stopped and straightened his shirt. He heard Claire behind him, almost forgetting she was there. He lowered his voice. "And as far as punishing everyone, we are a unit: if one screws up, you all screw up. I thought the Air Force would've taught you that."

Chris lunged forward, but was pulled back by Barry, who held him firmly in place. "Relax," the older man said and released his friend. Chris brushed past Wesker and Claire, leaving the room in a huff.

"Chris?" Claire called after, but he made no attempt to stop.

"I wouldn't worry too much about him," Wesker said, voice still thick with anger. "He'll cry in his corner, wipe his tears, and be back in a few minutes. He does this all the time."

"So does that mean you're an asshole all the time?"

Silence. Barry visibly tensed and sighed, gripping the chair tightly. Jill's mouth slowly opened, wide enough that had she been a clock, a cuckoo bird could easy pop out. Brad just remained silent with his head down; things were already fucked up anyways. Joseph rubbed his temples; he didn't know what the hell to make of this situation. One Redfield was enough, but two? That was more than enough, even for Wesker.

"No, it means your pathetic excuse of a brother deserves constant punishment. It's not my fault if he can't handle a firm hand. If he wants to be a little boy and embarrass himself, then maybe he should join the scouts." Wesker turned fully to face Claire. He removed his glasses; his intense blue eyes bore into Claire. She wanted to look away in case she turned to stone, but couldn't.

Ok, so maybe two wasn't enough for Wesker…

"Well, I think you're just a bully and hurting others satisfies you. My brother is great and strong. Sure, he might have a little temper, but that's only with people who mistreat him. And you obviously do that a lot from what he tells me, and what I've seen here."

Wesker chuckled darkly, one of those laughs a villain might possess just before killing the hero. "Miss Redfield…" He leaned in close. "I don't enjoy hurting anyone. I enjoy watching others suffer at the hands of their own ignorance. If people, like Chris, can't use their brains, puny or not, then they deserve self-humiliation. Simple as that."

Claire didn't think twice. She splashed the remaining water from her bottle over Wesker's face; he dripped all over. Everyone flinched. Wesker's eyes closed momentarily, but held the same firm gaze on Claire.

"Agreed," Claire growled and turned on her heel to find her brother. Wesker watched her go. Judging from the vein protruding from his forehead and the white-knuckle grip on the doorway, he was angry. No, enraged. But he said nothing. Instead he inhaled deeply, regaining his posture with an exhale. He smoothed his gloved hands over his blond hair, making sure he kept it in place. He whipped out his glasses and put them on, before turning around to four pairs of eyes, each holding a different expression.

Wesker's shoulders slumped as he licked the few drops that accumulated on his lips. They twitched. He could taste her. A part of her remained with the water that was now all over his face. Feeling the awkward tension, Wesker curled his lip. "Why are you not working?"

Everyone immediately went back to their work without so much as a word or glance at Wesker. He wiped his forehead and made his way into his office. He didn't even bother with the computer. He just sat there with his legs propped on the table, head back in thought.

_Well played, Claire. That caught me off guard, I'll give you that. But next time…_

Wesker pulled out his cell and searched his contacts until he found the desired number and hit 'send.' A few rings…

"Enrico? It's Wesker…"

**And that concludes this chapter :D Hope you guys liked it; this is virgin territory for me haha I could've written a lot more, but I want to see the feedback first. Also, if you notice any problems with the tense (either in this story or my LOK fics) I apologize. I have always been bad with the tense, and it can get better or worse depending on the medium; I'm into screenwriting, so the present tense is used and I forget to shift when writing fiction lol so I'm sorry if that bothers you X( On another note, this chapter was just to show the close bond of Chris and Claire and what happens when another tries to mess it up. Obviously, Claire has a thorn in her side—Wesker! I know it seemed like it was about both Redfields (and in a way I guess it was) but later chapters will focus more on Claire and Wesker (hopefully) lol although, I can't resist putting Chris on the spot, especially in front of Claire and Wesker:D**

**Oh, and since it is "fan fiction," please don't leave me comments about where Claire goes to school, or that something is amiss in the timeline, etc. If it's a personality thing or OOC comment, I'll consider it and reply back; I try to make the characters as true as I can get them. For the sake of this fic, it will be whatever I want it to be, as it should be for any author of this type of writing. Anyways, I hope you guys liked it. Let me know what you think. PM me! Reviews are not required, but they help with criticism and the motivation to update lol *wink* *wink*-Lil V :D**


	2. Peace?

**Hello readers! I'm pretty happy with all the feedback I've gotten XD Thank you so much. Let's get chapter 2 started, shall we?**

**Peace?**

Groans of pain filled the gym. In the far back, all the STARS members were in a handstand position, dressed in sweats against the mirror-lined wall.

"Down!" Wesker commanded. The groans amplified. Everyone "tried" to lower their dripping sweat bodies to do a push-up. "Hold it…"

"Ah, fuck, c'mon!" Forest blurted out, slamming his eyes shut before the sweat rolled below his brows.

Chris took a deep breath before rapidly shooting the air out of his mouth. "Shut up, Forest," he breathed before taking another gulp of air. On either side of Chris were Barry and Jill, both with their mouths clamped shut; Jill's loose hair was glued to her temples as she shifted her weight. Barry closed his eyes.

"One more—up!" Wesker moved up and waited for the others to follow. With one hand he removed his glasses, wiped his eyes, and placed them back on his nose. His breath was steady, like he'd done this so many times before. "Down and hold!"

"Shit," Joseph cursed as he lowered his form down for the last time.

"Ugh, I can't…" Brad grounded out. His arms began to spasm and sweat plopped onto the black mat.

Everyone but Wesker turned to Brad, worried expressions on their faces. He wobbled in place.

"If he falls, we do another set," Wesker warned and turned to Brad with knitted eyebrows. "Keep it together, Vickers."

"You better not mess up, Chicken," Forest added. Brad groaned and dug his nails into the mat, keeping his body from swaying backwards. Sweat continued to puddle below as he took shallow breaths.

"C'mon, Brad…" Chris whispered.

Wesker took another look at Brad's struggling form and smirked. "Done."

Groans and sighs of relief escaped the Alpha and Bravo members as they collapsed onto the sweat covered mat, panting as they remained still—almost lifeless on the floor.

Wesker was already on his feet, leaning against the decline bench as he watched his subordinates in amusement. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Speak for yourself, Wesker," Enrico said taking a spot next to the Alpha leader. "I'm glad Vickers didn't fall, because I don't think I could do one more, let alone another full set." He shook his head. "Damn…"

Forest moved over to Brad's still form and slapped his cheeks. "Nah, Chicken knows what's good for him, Captain." Brad swung his arm, nearly clipping Forest on the chin. Forest backed up and laughed at Brad's vain attempt.

"Leave him alone, Forest," Chris said in annoyance as he stood. He reached down to help Jill to her feet and then held out a hand for Barry. "You did good, Brad."

Brad rose from his spot and pulled off his sweater, giving his face a wipe down. "Thanks," he replied, still out of breath.

"Well done, Vickers," Wesker said with a nod. "We're done for the day." He glanced at his watch. "Hit the showers and then go to lunch." His eyes landed on Chris. "Except for you."

Chris sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Jill's hand landed on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze before turning away. Everyone moved in clusters towards the locker rooms. Enrico gave Wesker a slap on the arm before following the others.

Wesker watched everyone go before turning his attention to Chris. He removed his glasses. "I want to talk to you about yesterday," he began, and gave his glasses a wipe, keeping his eyes on them. He inspected them thoroughly before placing them back on his nose.

"Look, Wesker, I—

"Let me finish," he said sternly and folded his arms. "I understand that there are times where there is friction between you and I. Of course, that's expected in the workplace." Wesker gave Chris a firm stare. "However, that does not justify my actions nor does it give me the right to insult you repeatedly, especially in front of your sister. That was unprofessional."

Chris looked surprised, _really _surprised. _Did Wesker just admit he was at fault?_ He thought, trying to compose himself so he didn't rub victory in his captain's face. Wesker already looked uncomfortable, like someone held a cattle prod next to him and would shock him if he didn't say what he was told.

Silence prompted Wesker to continue. "Something happened yesterday before work, and I broke the rules of leaving my problems at home." He pushed himself off the machine and casually slicked his hair back. "Nevertheless, I hope we can forget this matter; what was said between yesterday and now will be forgotten. Agreed?"

A burden was lifted off of Chris' shoulders. He gave a nod. "Agreed."

"Good." Wesker said with the slightest hint of a smile before it melted into a flat line. He started for the lockers. "When you get back from lunch, make sure there's a hot cup of coffee waiting for me on my desk." Chris wanted to protest, wanted to shout…then he thought about the talk and decided not to ruin his captain's mood.

Chris followed suit. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Claire rested against the window with her headphones on as the bus moved along the busy streets. She sighed, tired from a long day of school and glad to finally be going home…almost. Chris had called earlier in the day for Claire to meet him at work so that they could ride home together. Claire protested, of course, but Chris didn't want Claire to ride the bus alone at night. Against her will, she agreed.

Claire pulled the 'stop requested' cord and moved to an empty seat at the front of the bus. When the bus came to the stop, she gave the driver a "thanks" and headed out, walking a block towards the RPD. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw the building come into view, thankful that it hadn't taken her long to reach it; things got a little scary after dark. What better way to feel safe than in a Police Department?

Claire walked inside the building with her hands on her backpack straps, humming to 'A Day in the Life' by the Beatles as she made her way through the near empty halls to the STARS office. Alpha Team's door was ajar, only open by the trashcan bin. Claire pulled her headphones down and knitted her eyebrows. She opened the door slowly and poked her head in. Empty.

"Chris?" Claire called into the room. She stepped inside and looked around. "Chris?"

"He's not here."

Claire's eyes shot towards the darkness in Wesker's office. She heard the chair roll out and heavy footsteps follow; a soft 'click' was heard and the lights in the office came on, revealing a serious looking Wesker. He took a few steps out of the office and planted his hands on his hips.

"I sent him out on patrol," he said simply and gave a shrug. "I suspect he won't return for a few hours." He saw Claire's expression change from confused to disappointment. "But I didn't know you were coming, Miss Redfield, otherwise I would have sent another officer."

Claire gave a sigh and let her gaze fall to the tile. _Thanks a lot for calling, Chris. _And then Claire's eyes lit up.

"Duh," she said, pulling out her phone. She dialed Chris' number and waited. It rang. Her eyes quickly landed on the drawer beside Chris' desk. A loud rattling noise was heard and Claire moved to open the drawer. She closed her phone with a snap. 'Missed Call' was displayed on Chris' phone before the backlight turned off.

"Great," Claire muttered. _That's strike two, you big ape._

"How unfortunate. Looks like you're going to be waiting for some time until his return, Miss Redfield." Wesker walked back into his office. "You're welcome to stay and wait for him…" He lowered his voice. "…as long as you're not carrying any water." Claire could hear the warning in his voice and the grip on her backpack straps tightened. She'd almost forgotten about the embarrassing incident the day before; had she remembered this when she was on the bus, she would've rode all the way home, no matter _what_ Chris said.

Claire felt her feet move forward. Willingly? Unwillingly? She didn't know; she just came closer and closer to Wesker's door. "Oh," she said and dipped her head, like a dog with its tail between its legs. "About that…I-uh…I wanted to apologize for my behavior, Captain Wesker—

"Just Wesker," he cut in. He sat back in his seat when Claire entered. He could hear the friction of her Converse hi-tops rubbing together in nervousness as she stood in the doorway. He gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite of him.

"Oh, thanks," she said and took her backpack off before planting herself in the chair. She put her backpack on the floor, fixing it so it didn't fall over…stalling…she didn't want to look up, didn't want to face Wesker. But he had invited her into his office, into one of his chairs, and now he was waiting to hear her apology…it was now or never.

Claire looked sat upright in her chair, trying to find some indication that he was looking at her, but saw that his gaze was somewhat lower. She could guess that he was staring at her almost C-cup boobs that popped out more prominently by the slim-fitting graphic tee, or he was analyzing the phrase, "That's how I roll," printed across the shirt, and wondering what the hell it meant. Either way, he spent more than enough time on her chest.

She cleared her throat, and Wesker's head tilted up slightly. "So as I was saying Cap-I mean Wesker, was that I wanted to say sorry for yesterday. I'm very protective of my brother as he is protective with me—in different ways of course, but I still get ticked off when someone gives him a hard time. You know, when someone's like, "You're an effin' this," and "You can't do anything right…" She sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that I'll always be on my brother's side and I was yesterday, but I guess I should've taken a step back; he's my brother, but you're his boss and he was here in the office. I shouldn't have jumped into something that didn't concern me." She looked away. "I'm sorry—I—I just lost it. I didn't mean to call you an asshole or—" she tried holding back her smile.

"Or shower me with water?" Wesker offered, slightly moved by Claire's words. She nodded and he put a hand to his chin in thought, considering the young Redfield. "Hm. You weren't in your right state of mind, and neither was I." He adjusted his glasses and clasped his hands on the polished desk.

_That's it?_

He sat quietly. The silence gnawed on Claire's courage; slowly, she began to feel that uncomfortable feeling again—the feeling she had felt yesterday when she was introduced to Wesker. She was thankful for his glasses, that she couldn't see his eyes (not that she'd be able to read his emotions anyways). All she knew was that they were cold, not in a mean or harsh way, but a lifeless kind of cold.

_That's why you're such a mystery…perhaps there's more? _The thought was quickly dismissed before she went on a tangent in her own mind. Why would she care about his feelings? Why…?

"So…" Claire began, focusing on Wesker's gloved hands and narrowing her eyes when the leather 'squeaked' as he clasped his fingers tighter. "…water under the bridge?"

Wesker smirked. "Water under the bridge," he agreed and removed his glasses to rub his dry eyes. Claire only caught a glimpse of blue before they were covered again by black plastic. Wesker opened a manila folder that had been lying on the desk by his computer mouse, and began pulling out papers. He opened a drawer and pulled out a ball point pen, getting down to business and filling out the blank black lines. Claire watched his hand effortlessly guide the pen into curves, loops and angles as if they were brushstrokes.

She leaned over to see what he had written:

_The suspect was not armed, but was heavily intoxicated; he possessed a valid driver's license but had no proof of insurance or registration…_

A loud grumbling noise stopped him and he slowly looked at Claire with furrowed brows. She pressed her lips together in embarrassment and sat back.

"Sorry," she said with a rub on her stomach. "Guess it's time to feed the beast."

Wesker raised a brow and tapped his pen against the desk, as if contemplating something. Claire took that as a look of disapproval or annoyance and stood abruptly, scooping up her backpack by a strap.

"Thanks for the company, Wesker," she mumbled and kept her eyes on the ground as she slipped into the straps, "but I should be going."

The tapping stopped.

"Oh? I thought you were going to wait for Chris?"

Claire looked at him, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, but it's getting late; I'm hungry, and you seem really busy. I don't want to overstay my welcome, you know?"

"You haven't," Wesker said matter-of-factly and stood. "But if you wish to be on your way, then by all means…just drive safely."

_Was this the night of embarrassing moments?_

"Uh-well…I don't exactly _drive_. I mean I have my license, but I don't have a car. I take the bus wherever I need to go."

Wesker's brows furrowed again, only this time they were accompanied by a clenched jaw and tightened fists. "You mean your brother makes you take the bus _all alone_, to and from school?"

"Well he doesn't make me," Claire said, once again, trying to defend her brother. "I really have no other choice. He uses the Jeep for work and I guess I don't mind too much, because school isn't that far…" She trailed off, thinking of how nice it would be to take a thirty minute drive to school, instead of taking almost an hour with two buses, and that solely depended if the buses had arrived late. "And it's in daylight most of the time. Except for Tuesdays and Thursdays—those are my late night days."

"That's preposterous," Wesker growled and tossed the pen on the table, before pulling out a key from his pocket to unlock a side table drawer. Claire heard a few jingles and Wesker slipped his keys into his pocket. He shut the computer down, and turned off the light. "Come."

"Wait, where are we going?" Claire said, almost sounding like a confused child that was ready to pester Wesker with numerous questions.

"Out. I'm taking you home," he said flatly and patted his pockets: wallet, keys (obviously), pocket knife…he didn't need to feel for his gun. He _always _had it with him.

Wesker locked his office and lead the way to the Alpha entrance, past the other members' desks. Claire slipped past him and he shut the light off, locking the office behind him. He put the keys away and started for the parking lot, Claire right behind. She gripped her straps tightly and kept her eyes on her Converse; the 'squeaky' noise they made on the waxed tile made her smile. They differed completely from the heavy thud of Wesker's boots.

Outside, the air was cold and goose bumps immediately formed on Claire's exposed skin. Warm air escaped her after every breath and disappeared into the cold. The heat was no match for it.

Wesker pulled out his keys once more and disarmed the alarm before opening Claire's door. She was taken aback by the gesture, one that she imagined Wesker would never have done.

"Huh, I had no idea guys still did this," she said and slipped into the passenger seat.

"They don't," Wesker said with a firmly shut the door. He got into his own seat and turned the key. The BMW started up with a growl. He let the engine warm up and turned the headlights on.

_Black._ Everything was black, Claire noticed. The shiny leather beneath her butt was smooth, so much that she had to slide backwards to prevent her from sliding forward. She ran her hands along the leather, not feeling any creases or excessive wear.

_He must always drive alone._

A navigation system sat at the center of the console with a map of their location, the time, the weather…her eyes landed on the shift knob when Wesker covered it.

"A stick, huh? You don't seem like the type of guy to drive one." Claire glanced at Wesker and buckled her seatbelt.

Wesker pushed the clutch in and shifted in reverse. He shifted then shifted into first and slowly released the clutch. "That's the only way to drive," he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice as he drove out of the parking lot and onto the empty street. No one was out. An occasional car or two passed as Wesker took the side streets and headed for downtown. The skyscrapers came into view and Claire knitted her brows.

"But my house—

"We're not going to your house." Wesker shifted and stole a glance at Claire before she panicked. "Not yet anyway."

"Well, where are we going then?" There was worry in her voice and Wesker kept a straight face, not bothering to look or answer her. "Wesker?"

Claire noticed the speed decreasing and she looked ahead of her, relaxing when she saw Burger Kong come into view, still lit up with the 'Open Late' neon sign in the window. Wesker pulled into the drive thru just behind another car and put the car in neutral. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before turning to Claire.

"Something wrong?"

"Uh-no. No." Claire shrugged nervously. "It's just…I thought you were taking me home, and then we end up here, and…"

Wesker gave a low chuckle that made Claire shudder in delight. He shook his head lightly. "You intrigue me, Miss Redfield." He let his arm hang outside the open window. "Don't worry. Once we "feed the beast" I'll deliver you home safe." A half-smile…

Claire curled her toes in her sneakers and nodded, suddenly not being able to reply. Wesker looked away to the car in front and put the car in first. He moved up to the menu.

"Welcome to Burger Kong, how can I help you?"

Wesker didn't hesitate. "Let me have a double cheeseburger meal with a Coke. Go large on it. A grilled chicken salad with Italian dressing and another large Coke on the side, please."

Claire's eyes widened. _Damn, Wesker…I like cheeseburgers as much as the next gal, but c'mon…_

"Ok, sir, your total will be $15.46 at the window, thank you."

Wesker put the car into first and drove to the window. With the car in neutral he undid his seatbelt and pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. He opened it wide enough for Claire to see a thick wad of cash and a few plastic cards; the smallest bills had to be tens. Wesker grabbed a twenty and gave it to the cashier as she handed him the drinks. He handed them to Claire and she placed them in the cup holders beside Wesker; he took his change back and placed it in Claire's hands.

"What do you want me to do with this?" She asked, squeezing her hands tighter as the pennies threatened to escape her clutches.

"Keep it," he said quickly as he was handed the bag of food. "Have a good night," he said with a nod to the cashier and sped off. Claire opened the bag, and like a claw from one of those machines with the stuffed animals, she grabbed a handful of fries.

Wesker heard the repeated crinkle of the bag and took a glance at Claire. She did the same except with a mouthful of fries. She chewed slowly, keeping her eyes on Wesker.

"Sowwy," Claire managed to say between each chew. She swallowed the starchy glob in her mouth and licked her lips of the remaining salt. "Sorry."

"You're hungry. By all means dig in." Claire rummaged through the bag. "Just don't make a mess."

"Well noted," she said before stabbing the straw into her Coke cup and taking a long drink. "Ahh…nothing like the sugar rush of a Coke. Does the body good."

"Actually, soda is very bad for you. It can cause many unwanted health problems. Although I'm sure it doesn't matter, since you're going to eat an artery clogging piece of meat anyway." The car slowed to a red. He turned to Claire with his hand lingering over the knob. "So which way to your house?"

* * *

"So, why did you buy a salad anyway? I mean, really, who goes to a fast food spot and gets a salad?" Claire took a sip of Coke and big bite out of her burger.

They were parked at the curb outside Claire's house with the interior lights on as they ate 'dinner.' Wesker stuck his fork into a grape tomato and almost swallowed it whole. He placed his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

He grabbed his Coke. "I'm not very hungry." He took a sip and put the Coke down. "But I can eat a good meal when I am," he reassured Claire as he grabbed his fork and stabbed pieces of Chicken and lettuce.

Claire downed the last of her fries before crushing the cardboard in her hands. "What's your favorite meal?"

"Hmm. What a broad question. How about you narrow it down?"

Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Ok, Mexican?"

Wesker shook his head. "Not a big fan."

"Chinese?"

"Some of it's very greasy," he replied thoughtfully before covering the left overs of his salad.

"Japanese?"

"Too raw."

Claire sighed. "Then what? You've obviously narrowed everything down already."

He smirked. "I know. I just wanted to see how long it took before your patience wore off." Claire folded her arms and gave a look of disbelief. "I'm rather fond of Chicken Alfredo…but it has to be made just right."

"Oh, God, is there _anything _that doesn't need to be up to your perfect standards?" Claire said tossing her hands up. "It's food. If it tastes good, eat it. I mean, what else are you picky about?"

Wesker considered her with the tilt of his head. He couldn't help but smile. The same flame burned inside her as it did inside Chris; the only difference was that Claire was able to hold his attention longer. "A lot of things," he said finally.

"Oh, for the love of…forget I asked," she said with a shake of her head. "Question dodger…"

Before Wesker could reply, his phone released numerous vibrations in his pocket. He wasted no time answering it, as if he expected the call.

"Wesker." He pressed the phone firmly against his ear. If Claire had to guess, it was probably someone from his team. "Mhmm…and the result?" He waited. "I see…"

As she drowned Wesker out, Claire paid particular attention to the muscles in his forearm; she liked how they shifted with each movement of Wesker's fingers; the large vein that curved up was fascinating. She didn't know why…it just was. She was a muscle-liking girl; most of the guys in her classes had nowhere near the muscle definition as Wesker and that disappointed her. Claire was supposed to be checking out the guys at school, hopefully finding her long lost sweetheart, and living happily ever after. OK, maybe that was just in the movies. But checking out Chris' boss every chance she got wasn't exactly OK either, was it? Hell, he could have any woman he wanted. Why would he even consider someone just making the age of adulthood? She didn't have much to offer. All she possessed was an empty pit of a stomach, big boobs, and a shirt that took some people time to understand. After all…he was very picky.

"I'll keep in touch," he mumbled and ended the call. He turned back to Claire. "Forgive me. Business is relentless." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "Unfortunately, Miss Redfield, I must be on my way. Bravo Team will be arriving at the RPD and I need to discuss something with them before I retire for the night."

Claire unbuckled her safety belt. "Say no more." She grabbed the bag of trash and crumbled it. "Thank you for everything, Wesker. I appreciate it." Just as she was about to exit the vehicle…

"Wait," he said quickly. He adjusted his glasses as if they would help him see better. "I have a proposition for you."

"Alright, let's hear it."

Wesker smiled. He liked her directness. "Seeing as though you don't have a vehicle of your own—by means of insufficient funds or simply because your brother doesn't want you driving—I would like to employ you so that you can save for one of your own." Claire's face fell. "Not _that_ kind of employment, Miss Redfield. Mind out of the gutter, if you please?"

Claire reconsidered. "Ok, if I said yes, what kind of stuff would I have to do? And it better not be something weird either, like rearranging your bug collection or something like that."

"Cleaning my house—

"Nope," Claire said quickly.

"—cooking—

"I said no, Wesker."

"—and providing aid where I require it, no questions asked."

"Damnit, didn't you hear me?" Claire said with the slam of the door. "I'm not going to be some slave."

Wesker removed his glasses. His cold eyes bore into Claire's; she was hypnotized.

_Don't turn to stone, don't turn to stone…_

"How does three-hundred dollars a day sound?"

_How does it sound?_ She thought. "Depends on the hours, and the so-called tasks you want me to do. I expect more if it's an all-day thing, like weekends and what not."

"We'll negotiate that when we come across it, Miss Redfield." He started the engine. "I'll expect an answer by the end of the week. Oh, and keep this between us." He shifted the car into first. "Have a good night." And Albert Wesker was gone.

Claire watched the sleek car head down the street and make a sharp right. "Prick."

**End of this one. A couple things I wanna address: I'm trying to capture the Wesker from RE 1 and NOT from RE 5 (as I have previously been doing lol). As far as I'm concerned, RE 1 Wesker is up for interpretation. He's stoic, sure, but I've seen numerous fictions with him as talkative, likeable, human…so I'm doing my best to make him professional, smart, but also human, as he kinda-sorta is personality wise. He doesn't go crazy until after RE 1 when Chris foils his plans, blah, blah…So yeah. I wanted to write more, but I didn't want to bore you guys; plus the title wouldn't make sense after a while.**

**Another thing, I'm trying to dive right into the story plot and give more Wesker and Claire interaction. I don't like to stall by throwing out fillers. Sure, this fic will take some planning, but if the story REALLY starts becoming a "WTF?" story, let me know; otherwise, let it take its course. You might actually be surprised. And yes, Claire is a little playful, immature at times, but what young adult (other than Wesker, maybe) hasn't been like that? She's the one who's gonna make Wesker open up more if you haven't noticed already. Don't forget, Wesker is still a police officer. And though he might have his own agenda with Umbrella that he hasn't revealed yet, he must still be a respectable and believable citizen, even if that means buying Claire food and taking her home. I just felt I should mention these things, since I have a feeling that someone will say "that's unbelievable." Lol Anways, feel free to PM me or review. They help! Also, hit me up on FB; my link is on my profile. And if you have a PS3, PM me your network name and we'll play! :D—Lil V. p.s. I would appreciate it if "Guests" signed in so that I can reply to your messages, or at least say "thanks."**


	3. Close for Comfort

**Hey everyone! First off, just wanted to bring something into the light: we have a troll on our hands lol He/she has crept from under the bridge and has decided to tell me that I've "ripped-off" a story from another author on here. Lol It's a "guest" on my reviews. I believe the story is called "Sacrifice"? Anyway, I have read this story before and do see some similarities between our stories, but that's only as far as the characters and settings. Mine is set in STARS and only during the STARS era; the other story jumps from STARS, Africa, and a present time-frame: Leon, Claire, Jill, Chris, Wesker, and other characters that are OC play a role as well. Tell me how that is similar lol Seriously. Check on my reviews and you'll probably see the troll. Let's all give a HUGE applause for the troll, everyone, for being so stupid:D YAAAAY! Ok, that's enough.**

**I would like to say I would NEVER copy someone else's work. I think that's despicable and a disgrace. The moment I ever decide to do that, I will drop writing altogether; and that will never happen, I know for sure. So I hope this hasn't scared any of you away; I'm an honest person, and have never, ever taken anything from someone else's story, other than little details like someone's mannerisms, personalities, etc. Never have I copied the theme, the plot, the EXACT settings in the same chapters…Sorry, just wanted to throw that out there because that troll needs to be put on the spot. This goes for all future trolls. Thanks.**

**Now to the important people :D I'll try not to make this chapter too fluffy too fast ;) You'll get goodness so enough. Until then, please enjoy ;P**

**Close for Comfort**

"Got lots of homework?" Chris said as he walked into the kitchen, sweat dripping down his naked torso. He wiped his forehead and grabbed a cup from the cupboard. He turned on the tap and took several gulps of water. Claire noticed Chris standing there and pulled off her headphones, letting them hang around her neck.

"Sorry, what?"

"Homework—you got a lot?" Chris asked again before putting his cup in the sink.

"Oh! Um…" She looked over her agenda and began check marking assignments off. "No, not really. Other than a few chapters of reading for my English class, I'm pretty much finished for the weekend." She cracked her fingers. "Gosh, it feels good not having class on Fridays. Speaking of Friday, aren't you going out tonight?"

"Yeah, with some girl I met at the precinct the other day-

Claire rolled her eyes. "What else is new?"

"—and she was all crying, right? I guess her dog ran away and she came in to file a report. Luckily, I was handing some paperwork to Rachel and got front row seats. I had to do all the questioning, but that earned me a number. Hopefully she doesn't flake out."

"Or give you a STD," Claire said simply, "because then you're gonna be quarantined, and I'll be damned if you're gonna be near me." Chris looked down at Claire and lunged forward, scooping her into his arms. "Get off, Chris! You're sweaty!"

"I'm infecting you, Claire. Now you're gonna be quarantined with me!" He said in an almost Cookie Monster voice.

"Stop, stop! You know I fuckin' hate when you tickle me!" Claire said between giggles and elbowed Chris in the ribs.

He pulled back and rubbed his side. "Someone has anger issues," he said and stuck his tongue out. "Well I need to finish my workout, so I'll let your nerdy-self get back to it." He pointed at her. "And watch your language," he said in the Cookie Monster voice.

Claire shook her head with a smile. "Ok, peanut brain, knock yourself out. Just don't overdo it."

"I need to," Chris called from the outside before making his way into the garage. "What if I need to beat someone up one day?"

Claire sighed when she heard the garage door shut, and went back to her homework. Chris had been on an exercising binge for the past couple of days, and it really wasn't like him. Sure, he worked out; everyone who knew Chris clearly saw his muscular body. But this time was different. He worked out _too_ hard. And it made Claire wonder if it was to impress someone, or if it was just Chris going through some phase.

_Beat someone up?_ She thought. Who has caused him so much distress that this 'someone' would become a threat?

Claire jumped slightly when her cell phone gave a few buzzes. She opened her phone; a new text message from an unknown number lit the screen. Claire's face wrinkled in confusion. She opened the message.

'_Have you come to a decision?'_

"The hell…?" Claire muttered and hit 'reply.'

'_Who is this?'_

_ 'I would hate to repeat myself, Miss Redfield.'_

Claire's stomach dropped like an anvil and her toes curled in her shoes. _Wesker?_ _How the hell did he get my number? _Claire looked towards the backdoor to make sure Chris wasn't on his way in, and then went back to her phone, unsure of how to respond. It wasn't the question that made her nervous, but the idea that Wesker had contacted her via phone. If Claire didn't have a reason to _really_ be freaked out by the STARS Captain, she did now.

She bit her lip, hesitant to reply should Chris come back inside. Hell, if he found out, _then_ he'd have someone to beat up.

_The money is pretty good,_ she thought, _but at the same time he's weird. But he is hot…yeah, really hot, but I don't need to be a slave…well, you're not…and school can be expensive. And think of it! This will get Chris off your back for a while…_

Claire sighed in frustration. Something so simple provided difficult choices. She hit reply.

_'Yeah, I'm in.'_

_ 'Good. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Get some rest. You're going to need all your energy.'_

Claire didn't bother asking why she needed all her energy; in fact, she didn't really worry about it. Wesker had already told her to keep her mind out of the gutter, and that's what she did; it's not like he would _ever_ do something like that. Why would he? Wesker was pretty much a public figure in the city, and messing around with someone like Claire (especially if she was the sister of his subordinate) would set his reputation as a respectable leader, ablaze. And Claire didn't want that—not for herself or Wesker.

* * *

"Did Chris ask any questions?" Wesker asked before shifting into third-gear. He took a glance at Claire. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

Claire looked at the blurry houses as they zoomed by in Wesker's BMW. "No," she mumbled and rubbed her aching neck, "I told him I was going to study with a friend at the library for an upcoming test." She paused before giving a yawn. "I don't know why you're so paranoid. Unlike most, Chris has some trouble getting his light bulb to turn on; sometimes he has to give it a few flicks. Besides, what's so secretive about this—"

Claire stopped herself. What's so secretive about this? _Well, let's think, Claire. You're in a car with Chris' boss, going to his house to do God knows what, you're hiding this from Chris, most importantly, and Wesker is…_

"Your silence tells me you've figured out why your brother must not be made aware of our…situation. Am I right?"

Claire said nothing as she looked Wesker over. His blond hair was slicked-back perfectly, even for the ungodly hour of seven in the morning; he was dressed in sweats that were similar to a pair Chris owned, with a small STARS logo stitched just above Wesker's right hip; and of course, the usual sunglasses were nestled on his nose, covering his cold eyes that Claire couldn't stand, yet couldn't turn away from.

When silence filled the car once more, Wesker looked over at Claire. "So I am," he said matter-of-factly and slowed the car as he went up a driveway. He put the car in neutral, pulling the parking brake before shutting the vehicle off. The two exited and Wesker motioned Claire to follow him into the house. Claire looked around in awe. It wasn't the biggest house on the block, nor would it even be considered a mansion, but it was beautiful—a nice size for a single man.

The living room came into view first and Claire immediately noticed how dark everything was: a black leather couch and love seat sofa encircled the flat screen mounted on the wall; a glass coffee table sat in the center with a stack of neat magazines and the TV remote. Everything looked untouched.

And the tile…

_Tile?_ Claire saw that tile covered everything on the bottom floor, assuming Wesker didn't use tile for the upstairs, save for any bathrooms or bedrooms.

"Couldn't find the right carpet for your living room?" Claire asked.

"It's much harder to make noise on carpet than it is on tile, barefoot or not. With tile you can hear footsteps a lot clearer." Claire gave Wesker a 'you've got to be kidding' look. "But you didn't come here to observe my preference. Come."

Claire followed Wesker into the backyard, grimacing behind him the entire way. He opened the back door for her before following outside.

"Nice pool," Claire said, "observing" as Wesker had put it. The yard was big, which made up for the front lawn being small. The oval shaped pool took up about half of the space, which left a good chunk of lawn that badly needed to be mowed; a small tool shed was off in the corner by itself; to the left of the lawn were small rows of vegetables and fruits. Claire could see red and green bell peppers, a few tomato plants, carrots, a few watermelons, and an onion patch. Other than the lawn, Claire couldn't see much work that needed to be done.

"Firstly, I need you to replace the chlorine in the pool before it turns green and attracts insects; the garden needs to be sprayed with some poison; there are some aphids that need to be disposed of. I'm sure you've noticed the lawn; the lawnmower is in the shed, as is the edger so you can get along the cement. Pull all the weeds you find…Oh, and the shed needs to be organized." Wesker removed his glasses with squinted eyes and wiped them with the hem of his sweatshirt. "It shouldn't be that much of a problem." He placed his glasses back on and planted his hands on his hips. "Wash down the pool chairs…" he walked over to them. "They're filthy as you can see. Can't have my guests laying on these."

"You're having guests?" Claire said, not really interested in company at the moment.

"No, but if I did I'd want them to notice how white the chairs are." Wesker went back to Claire and stood beside her until his shoulder grazed hers. Claire froze, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the pool.

"I'm sure you'll do a good job," Wesker said in a low, almost seductive voice. He put an arm around Claire's shoulders and brought her closer to him. "Won't you, Claire?"

Claire wanted to die, or at least pass out and not suffer such embarrassment. Her face was burning, so much she'd thought her eyes would melt out of her sockets. Her fists tightened and her body went stiff. Wesker probably figured it out, chuckling shortly after.

"I'll leave you to it then. Let me know when you've finished so I can inspect everything," he said before making his way to the door. Claire heard it open. "If you do it quickly, you might receive some nourishment." And a click told her the door had closed.

"That voice," she whispered. "What the fuck…?" Shivers crawled from her shoulders down to her lower back; she felt goosebumps. Suddenly, studying sounded like a good idea.

* * *

Two and a half hours wasn't as bad as Claire thought time-wise. Two and a half hours in the baking sun was a different story. She had long removed the hoodie she had on earlier that left her in a near drenched tank top. Her jeans were stained at the knees in dirt; the damp grass had turned the white toes of her Converse a light shade of green, with tiny blades stuck in between her laces. Dirt had accumulated underneath her fingernails and outlined her cuticles. Her ponytail was lose, bangs glued with sweat to her temples. She frowned. She was a complete mess. How the hell was she going to explain _this _to Chris.

_Well, I was studying, Chris, but then my friend wanted to play soccer, and lo behold! We played a match against three girls—a handicap match, Chris! You should be proud of me!_

Claire sighed. _Yeah, that's not gonna work at all. _Seeing as though she had no more work left (or so she hoped), Claire made her way to the back door. Once inside the kitchen, she looked around, hoping to find a bathroom before she found Wesker.

"Done already?" He called.

Claire cursed under her breath and threw her arms down in a fit. "Uh…yeah," she called back, not yet seeing Wesker. She moved towards the living room. "E-Everything you asked me to do—it's all done." She stopped when she saw blond hair just above the couch; he was slouched in the seat, typing away at his laptop. Wesker's head tilted up slightly and he minimized whatever it was he was working on; the screen went to his email.

Claire was now by the arm rest looking down at Wesker. He was still in his sweats. "Well, now what?"

"The bathroom upstairs needs fresh towels and a good toilet scrub," he said without looking up. "All the supplies are in the cupboard down the hall."

Claire ran her tongue over her teeth before releasing a frustrated sigh. She walked down the hall in silence, resisting the urge to bang against the walls and scream. She found the wooden cupboard and pulled out a set of towels along with a bottle of Scrubbing Bubbles, and shut the doors. She made her way upstairs and found the bathroom with the door open.

A dark blue was painted on the walls, with two white picture frames that contained a default picture, with a person or family that came with the frame—Claire having no clue who they were. She let the towels drop on the closed toilet lid so she could wash her filthy hands. Instead of using the new towels, Claire decided on wiping her hands dry on her jeans; she didn't want to hear Wesker's bitching about the towels not being fresh. She squirted the Scrubbing Bubbles around the inside of the bowl and let it set; meanwhile, she grabbed the towels and placed them on the rack accordingly. When the Bubbles had turned the water a bluish color, Claire flushed the toilet; the bowl looked "fresh" enough.

Downstairs, Wesker was still in his same position, typing rapidly, and again, minimizing whatever he was doing when Claire approached.

"That bowl is so clean you can eat off of it." She could see the corner of Wesker's lips push up slightly. "But I personally don't recommend it, especially after someone has dropped a load."

Wesker finally turned to her with a half-smile. "I would have to agree." He closed his laptop shut and stood, almost knocking Claire back.

_Damn, you're tall._

"Well, I suppose I should inspect your work; I can't have things poorly done, can I?"

Claire narrowed her eyes. "For your information I did the best I could. Sorry if it doesn't meet your expectations, but what you see is what you get. I don't specialize in being "perfect."

Wesker folded his arms and tilted his head back. "I would have to agree."

Claire threw her fists to her sides. "That's it, I'm out of here," she seethed. "Do your own housework." As Claire went around Wesker to the door, he pulled her back against his chest. Hot breath flowed through Claire's hair, causing a wave of shivers all over her body; her breath hitched in her throat as her heart raced in her chest.

"Wesker?" Her voice came as a whisper. "What are—"

"I didn't hire you just so you could walk out, Claire," Wesker said seriously. Claire could feel the grumble in his chest with every word he spoke. "If you really didn't want to be here, regardless of what I asked you to do, you wouldn't have come. Isn't that right?"

Claire attempted to free herself, but Wesker held her in place. "Let go, Wesker."

"You're in no place to order _me_. I have the upper hand. Now answer me: why did you come if you were going to quit anyway?"

Claire gritted her teeth and tightened her body under Wesker's grip. "The money—why else?"

"Then why come? Three-hundred dollars for one day won't buy you a thing," Wesker countered. "It's a waste of time."

"You don't know what you're saying," Claire replied, before trying to elbow the captain.

Wesker caught her elbow. "No, _you_ don't. You don't know what's going on in your own mind; you think you do, but you don't. Even now your feelings are conflicted, aren't they? You're in denial…"

"Feelings? What feelings?" Claire growled and stopped struggling. "You don't know how I feel!"

Wesker spun Claire around to face him and held her by the shoulders. Claire's face was full of surprise, having been caught off guard she looked up at Wesker in confusion. In a smooth motion, Wesker removed his glasses and tossed them on the coffee table; the sound made Claire flinch.

"Then tell me," Wesker said firmly. "Tell me, Claire."

"I…" Claire searched Wesker's eyes, pleading to him. _Don't make me do this._ Tears began to form, filling to the rim before rolling down her cheeks. Wesker lifted a hand to wipe them away, but was stopped by Claire. She held his hand and gave it a squeeze before moving it aside. A deep breath escaped Claire. She got on her tippy toes and pushed herself up until her lips met Wesker's.

She could feel him stiffen against her, but he didn't pull away. They both kept their eyes open. After a few moments, Claire pulled back; her lips left Wesker's with a tiny 'smack.' And that was it: either time had ceased to exist or hell had frozen over. Either way, Claire had done it. She felt a sense of relief when the tension had left her. Whatever happened now, at least Wesker knew how Claire felt…how she _really _felt.

Wesker released Claire and stepped back, looking her over as if inspecting a crime scene. He shook his head. "I don't think…"

_Crush me, _she thought. _Get it over with._

"What, Wesker?" Claire's voice cracked as she tried to hold back another wave of tears. "Suddenly feeling something yourself?" She taunted. "Huh? You called out my feelings and now you have the audacity to question them, _and_ your own?" She shook her head and started for the door. "I knew you were too good to be true," she muttered before leaving the house, not looking back as she walked down the driveway.

* * *

Claire watched her professor pace back and forth as he lectured, pausing occasionally to wipe his face of sweat. Her thoughts were still stuck on Friday. She had walked to the nearest bus stop on what was probably the most humiliating day of her life, and rode it all the way home. Surprisingly, Chris wasn't home to see Claire a mess, and she was grateful she didn't have to pull the soccer story from her arsenal.

It was Tuesday, four days after her encounter with Wesker, and she couldn't shake it from her mind; the look on his face was unreadable: he was either very confused about his feelings or he was surprised that Claire had the balls to do what she did.

_It doesn't matter_. _He rejected you regardless…_

Claire sighed and began doodling on the borders of her notes. Everything was so confusing. Never had she felt this lost. Had she messed up? Was the kiss even worth it? The lead to her pencil snapped.

_It was worth it to me._

Vibrations sounded from Claire's pocket and she slid a hand down to retrieve her phone. She flipped open the phone. It was a text.

_The unknown number…_

Claire swallowed the lump in her throat, her thumb hovering over the 'open' button as she contemplated on ignoring the message altogether or reading it. She decided the latter and pressed the button.

'_We need to talk.' _It read. _'Are you free later on tonight?'_

"Holy shit," Claire breathed and allowed herself a few blinks before licking her lips.

'_I don't know, maybe.' _Claire typed. '_This guy in my class asked me to study with him, so I might be busy.'_

Claire relished the silence between them, if you can count not replying in less than a minute silence. Her phone vibrated again.

'_Come to the precinct after class. Leave your boyfriend at school.' _Was what it said. Claire had to smile. She could see Wesker's face now—a snarl and furrowed brows as he read the text. Oh, the joys of technology…

* * *

Claire walked down the quiet halls of the RPD to the Alpha Team office, a hard grip on her backpack straps as she paused to take a deep breath.

_Whatever happens, be strong._

She pulled the door open and found the same empty office as before, only this time Wesker had the light on in his. He looked around his computer when he heard the door close on the trash bin. When he saw Claire approach he sat back in his seat with a pen in his hand, twisting it between his forefingers and thumbs.

Claire stopped in the doorway. "So what did you want to talk about?" She saw the semi-completed police report on his desk. "I skipped studying with an Adonis to come here," she lied.

"I'm sure he'll forgive you. Please," Wesker said, offering a chair. Claire plopped in the chair, hoping that his was going to be fast. Wesker didn't look like he was in the mood for anything. Claire assumed he was tired and confused as hell, and keeping his glasses on kept her from seeing his emotions. But his serious tone offered he wasn't too happy.

"What happened the other day shouldn't have," he began. "I didn't think that mentioning the word "feelings" would be followed by a…" He nodded, hoping Claire would get the hint. "I was caught off guard completely."

"And what had you expected me to do? Did you want me to bow before you and admit what an awesome leader you were?" She paused and shook her head. "I don't know what books you read, Wesker, but that's what happens when you push people into admitting their feelings. Sorry it wasn't what you expected," she scoffed.

"It certainly wasn't what I anticipated."

"And I think that's bullshit. Why the hell would you lead me on?" Wesker raised an eyebrow. "Oh, c'mon…your eyes, th-the way your voice sounded when we were by the pool, the way you held me…" Claire shook her head. "You can't pin this all on me, Wesker. You can't…"

Wesker ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He looked over Claire carefully. "So if I…If _we_ had, say…similar feelings…what _then_?" He shrugged.

"That's not up to me," Claire replied. "I'm not the one who's held on a pedestal in this city. But whatever you happen to see _logic _in," she mocked, "make sure it's said here. I'm not gonna be on one of those emotional roller coaster thingys." When Wesker looked away… "I need an answer."

"Well I can't give you one," Wesker said dryly and turned back to Claire.

She shrugged. "That's all I needed to hear." The chair skidded out from behind her as she stood, backpack already in her arms. When she pushed in her chair, Wesker nearly slammed her into the wall.

"Ah, what the fuck?!" Claire growled, scrunching her face in pain. "Damnit, Wesker…" She regained her composure and froze, staring into Wesker's eyes. He had taken his glasses off and held them between his fingers. He pressed his forehead against Claire's.

"Is this what you were expecting?" Wesker said with an unusual calmness, minty breath caressing Claire's lips. "Hmm? Does this satisfy," his lips grazed Claire's, "your curiosity?"

Claire was paralyzed, helpless, almost as though she was under some kind of spell. Wesker nibbled on her bottom lip and she puckered them in response. Wesker didn't hesitate and kissed Claire fully, shoving his tongue inside to mingle with her own.

_What. The. Fuck?_

Claire didn't hold back anymore. She let herself go and melted into Wesker, snaking an arm up to grab a handful of gold locks. He groaned in response and pushed his groin against her; Claire could feel him already semi-hard. She stiffened, like she'd done so many times with Wesker, wondering what the hell was going on. First he was an asshole, then he made it up to her, nearly seduced her, turned back into an asshole, and now he was full-on kissing her right in his office. She was already on a roller coaster.

A gloved hand slithered up Claire's shirt, grabbing ahold of a breast and squeezing.

"Wesker," Claire moaned. "Please…"

Wesker chuckled darkly. "Please what?" He said into her ear. "Say it, Claire." He squeezed tighter, watching Claire's face fight the building pleasure.

Something alerted Wesker and he stopped suddenly, pulling his hand out of Claire's shirt.

Claire panted heavily. "What's wrong—

"Shh," Wesker said and put a finger to Claire's mouth, staring into her eyes as he listened. Slowly he backed up behind his desk and remained standing. He put his glasses on, stuck a hand in his pocket and waited.

Chris entered the office. "Wesker?"

"Back already?" Wesker replied casually as he smoothed his hair before Chris got to his door.

"Yeah, false alarm. I waited an hour outside the store, but I didn't see any exchange going on. Somebody probably got wind that I was coming." Chris turned to see Claire against the wall. "Claire? What the hell are you doing?"

Claire smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Captain Wesker was showing me how the suspects stand on a step wall. Positioned like so, right?" Claire straightened her posture.

Wesker nodded. "Indeed, except that they don't look as innocent as you do." He turned to Chris. "Your sister has been rather curious as of late—about our procedures when we apprehend suspects—and I decided to tell her about the lineup procedure; where I'm sitting is where the anonymous witness would be pointing out the suspect. Not my personal favorite, but…" He shrugged.

Chris raised an eyebrow at his sister. "Ok…you're a weirdo, Claire. Seriously. That's probably the most boring part of the whole procedure. And why would you even want to know that? I thought you'd be asking about guns or…" Chris trailed off, still perplexed by his sister's strange behavior.

Claire smiled. _Nicely played, Wesker._

"Sorry if she bored you to death with her questions, Wesker. She's hard to keep quiet once she's on a roll," Chris said before dodging a smack from Claire.

"Say it again," Claire dared, hiding her smile behind her scowl.

"Seriously, Claire, the step wall?" Chris still didn't believe it.

"She was no bore, Chris," Wesker replied and walked over to stand by Claire. "Quite the contrary, actually. She's very inquisitive, and that's good; she will obtain knowledge faster that way."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. As long as she's not a bother…" Chris gave a nod to Claire. "Let's get going. You got school tomorrow."

"Alright." She turned to Wesker. "Thanks for the talk, Captain. I'll see you around." As Claire began to follow Chris, Wesker grabbed her hand and placed something in her palm.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said seductively and released her arm, immediately going to his desk after.

Claire didn't bother to see what he had given her. She already knew what it was and stuck it in her pocket. She didn't look back at Wesker, but suddenly felt chills rolling up and down her spine, like someone was watching her.

**Honestly speaking, I didn't like this chapter as much as I had hoped I would. Maybe you guys agree; maybe you don't. Either way, your criticism means the world to me, so PM if need be. I tried not to force the action between Wesker and Claire; I wanted it to just come out on impulse, as though the two wanted to relieve their sexual tension. Sadly, Chris had to ruin it. HA HA ;) Guess you'll have to wait until next week to see what happens. See you then ;)—Lil V.**


	4. Coming Undone

** Thanks for all the reviews/feedback, guys :D It's really nice to know I have people that have taken interest in the story. I'm crossing my fingers this chapter will do justice. This chapter will be looooong, so I hope you've got your coffee;) lol jk Enjoy!**

**Coming Undone**

"So why do you think Nietzsche felt the weak were not worthy in this world?" The professor asked, pacing the room and waiting for an answer. No one raised their hands. "No one? Not even a guess?"

Claire rolled her eyes and slowly raised her hand. The professor lit up and nodded at Claire. "I believe it's because he felt the human race would never progress; the weak would always weigh down the strong and worthy, and that's why the species itself was considered weak."

The professor gave a few nods. "That's a good way of putting it, Miss Redfield. It seems you have done your reading." He turned to the class. "Anyone else?"

_Well, you tried, Claire, _she thought and rose from her seat and started for the exit. She walked down the hall, listening to her shoes make the small 'squeak' on the old tile. She entered the girl's restroom, thankful no one was in there; she could do her business in peace.

* * *

"Why would he say that—"

The entire class flinched at the sound of the classroom door opening. Another professor popped his head inside, distress written on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Cole, but we've just been informed there's a situation in the building, and have been advised to lock all doors and keep students inside."

The students looked at each other in question, fear and confusion filling the room.

"A situation?" Dr. Cole gasped. "What kind of situation?"

"We don't know," the professor said looking down the hall. "All we know is the suspect is armed and hiding in the building. We are on lockdown until the police arrive, so we have to hold out until then."

Dr. Cole's face steamed red. "You've got to be kidding me! The students—we are still up here! How could they just leave us here with a madman lurking around?!"

"I don't know," the professor added in a hurry. "Stay inside and lock up!" He left with a slam of the door. Dr. Cole immediately went for the lock and shut off the lights. He peered through the small window on the door, hot breath fogging up the glass. The halls were empty. He whipped around and placed his back against the door. Upon hearing the whispers…

"Everyone just remain calm. We just have to remain quiet and as long as we do that, the police will take care of this menace." He took a deep breath and looked around the room, eyes widening when he saw Claire's empty seat, forgetting she had left.

"Where's Miss Redfield?"

* * *

"We've got a situation," Wesker began, slamming a map of the school down on the table. He and the other STARS members gathered around the table in the briefing room. "We got a call from Campus Police that an armed suspect has entered one of the buildings and is hiding out. They think he was trying to shoot one of the Department Chair persons, and when it didn't go as planned he fled into hiding. Now they believe he's here." Wesker tapped the building with a gloved finger.

"Wait, he failed to shoot someone?" Joseph asked as he tightened his bandana around his head. "He must be a bad shot then."

"It must not have been point blank," Enrico replied. "Without proper training, anyone can be a bad shot."

"Then why are they calling us in?" Kenneth asked. "The guy can't shoot. Surely Campus Police should've been able to nail him?"

Wesker shook his head. "There are only so many units on patrol on campus at a time. I'm sure they couldn't go in without back up, in case _they _happened to get killed. That would leave civilians in danger if the shooter came out."

"Yeah, but Captain, why didn't they just…"

Chris drowned out Forest's voice and everyone else's after. He remained quite the entire time.

_Claire, _he thought. Claire was stuck inside a building with some lunatic running around, probably thinking he was untouchable with a gun he couldn't shoot with. What if he found Claire? What if she got hurt, or what if she…? Chris closed his eyes. No, he refused to let her get hurt. His whole world would collapse; his entire reason for existing would vanish if Claire was killed, especially by someone who had no respect for life.

Chris slammed his fist on the table, causing everyone to flinch. All the members looked at him in disbelief. "Let's cut the shit and get this bastard," he said through clenched teeth. "We're wasting time!"

"Listen, Redfield, you don't give the orders here—" Enrico began, but was cut off.

"My sister's in there!" Chris yelled. Enrico gave Chris a daring look, almost taunting him to attack with his eyes. Understanding reached everyone else, suddenly remembering Claire was going to school there.

Chris was panting now, adrenaline rushing through his body as he regained his composure. His shoulders slumped as he met Wesker's poker face. Chris didn't know if he was angry for the interruption or the outburst against a superior officer, but he said it and didn't give a _shit._

Wesker's eyes lingered on Chris for a second more before taking the map into his hands. "Suit up!"

Everyone scrambled to the lockers, pushing aside any other officers that crossed their paths. Chris opened the locker labeled, _C. Redfield_, and began to dress in his STARS attire. He quickly removed his plain white tee and replaced it with his STARS shirt, adding the olive drab vest over it. He placed his combat knife on his left shoulder so it was low enough to reach for it with his right hand. Holster was in place, gun…As he strapped on his first kneepad he glanced over at the other guys getting dressed, seeing as he was the only one who had finished first.

Wesker came in with his shirt halfway off his body, carrying his tactical vest. He stopped at the locker, _A. Wesker, _behind Chris and opened it.

"I had to inform Chief Irons of the situation. Everything is good to go." He glanced at Chris, who thought his captain had been talking to Enrico two lockers down. He gave Chris a reassuring smile. "This threat will be eliminated soon enough." He pulled off his shirt, revealing the corded muscle that lay underneath, unknowing to Chris or anyone for that matter; he never saw Wesker without a shirt, even when he and the other members showered. Not that Chris was looking to see Wesker naked-er, half naked, but it was strange to really see him in the flesh…literally.

Chris had to turn away, suddenly feeling disturbed about checking his captain's body out, and strapped on his second kneepad. He stood and closed his locker with a slam. Other slams followed.

Wesker was the last to slam his. He pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.

"Let's move out!"

* * *

Claire gave a big yawn as she fixed her hair in the mirror, smoothing out her bangs for flyaway hairs. She shrugged and headed for the exit. Before she opened the door, she stopped suddenly, hearing male voices nearby.

"Shit, they're coming for us, I know it!" One of the men said.

"Well if you would've killed the bastard like you were hired to do, we wouldn't be in this mess. Now we gotta hide out and hope the fuckin' cops don't get us first."

Claire clamped her lips together as she continued to listen.

"Damn, all for fifty gees, Bob—all for fifty gees and we didn't do it."

"_We_?" Bob scoffed. "Nah-nah, _you_. You were the one who Umbrella hired to take this guy out, not me; I'm just your wingman, Louie." The voices faded as the two men went further down the hall.

Claire's eyes widened in horror as she headed back for one of the stalls; she locked herself in and sat on the toilet with her knees to her chest.

"Umbrella?" She whispered. "But why would they want to do something like this?" Claire pulled out her phone and dialed Chris' number. It rang numerous times before Chris picked up.

"Claire! Are you alright?! Where are you?"

Claire took a deep breath. "I'm on the third floor in the girl's restroom, hiding in one of the stalls." She lowered her voice. "I-I heard these guys talking a-and—

"Guys? How many?" Chris sounded surprised.

"Uh, two I think. Why?"

"Shit." Chris' voice sounded distant and Claire could hear him talking to someone else. "Ok, Claire, this is what you're gonna do: I want you to go to the nearest classroom and stay there, alright? Make sure the door is locked behind you."

"But Chris, I-I—

Chris could hear Claire's voice crack. "Stay focused, Claire. Do as I said. We're on our way now. I know you can do this. You know why? 'Cause you're my sister."

"Ok, Chris," Claire whispered. Her lips began to tremble as she unlocked the stall. "Can you stay on the phone with me?"

"Yeah-Yeah, don't hang up. I'm with you the whole way, ok, kiddo?"

_Kiddo…He hasn't called me that since…_

Claire shook her head of the memory trying to resurface. _Don't think of mom and dad right now._

"I'm leaving the stall now," she informed Chris, and went for the door. "Peaking out the door…" Claire looked left and right; the hallway was empty. "Not a soul in sight…" She moved, trying to avoid squeaking on the tile as she made way for the nearest class. "So far so good, Chris."

There was static in response. Claire pulled the phone back and saw that the call was still connected. "Chris? Can you hear me?" A beeping noise answered and the call was dropped. "Shit." Claire tried to redial, but was met with a message across the screen that read, 'No Service.'

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Claire said and took a deep breath. "Be calm, Claire. Just…be calm."

"Good idea, 'cause if you're not, I'm gonna put a bullet between your eyes."

Claire's eyes widened and her body went froze. Her breaths came in short pants as Bob appeared in front of her; Louie came from behind and cocked his gun.

"Looks like we got a sheep who lost her way."

* * *

"Claire?! Claire?!" Chris tried to redial and the call went straight to 'busy.' "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, scaring the hell out of Jill in the passenger seat.

"What?! Is she ok?!"

"The fuckin' call was lost and I can't get through," he seethed and gripped the steering wheel harder. He reached for the radio. "Chris to Captain Wesker. Over."

There was some static before Wesker responded. "This is Wesker. Go ahead."

"I made contact with Claire. She's inside the same building we're headed for, but there's a problem: apparently there are two armed suspects instead of one."

"A careless observation by Campus Police," Wesker answered, not surprised. "Is she alright?"

"As far as I know... I was talking her through a situation, but our call got disconnected. She said she was on the third floor. Over."

"Roger that. Over and out." The radio went to static.

* * *

"What a lucky find, huh Bob?" Louie said filling Claire up. "I think we can squeeze in a few minutes with this one, can't we?"

Bob gave Louie a cold stare. "We don't have time for that, idiot. How about thinking with your head instead of your dick? Huh?!" Bob roughly pulled Claire in front of him. "Nah, we're gonna negotiate. All we gotta do now is wait."

* * *

Several STARS vehicles pulled up to the Raccoon Sate campus and skidded to a halt. Students that were gathered outside moved away as the members exited their vehicles, staring in awe and whispering amongst themselves.

A Campus Police officer approached Wesker. "Ah, the infamous Captain Wesker. What a nice surprise. Irons finally decided to send his best, huh?"

Wesker's eyes were on the third floor of the building. "Save your breath for someone who gives a damn, Rivers," he said calmly while putting his earpiece into place. "Now get every civilian away from here in case the shooting comes outside. Do it now!" Wesker motioned for his team to assemble.

"Oh, now you think because you're STARS, you're better than the other officers, huh Albert?"

Wesker whipped around and came inches from Officer Rivers' face. "Don't try me, Rivers, because I'm this close," he held up his finger and thumb and almost pressed them together, "to getting your ass suspended." Rivers said nothing. "And as far as better, yes, I believe we are. One of my officers acquired intel from inside the building—

"We already did that," Rivers interrupted. "We told you guys there was a shooter—

"And you were wrong. There are _two_." Wesker turned to Enrico. "Have Bravo take the East Wing; we'll take the West. Move out!"

"Right," Enrico said cocking his gun. "Forest, take the high route so you can cover the entrance. If those bastards come out, blast 'em."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Forest said running to his position, rifle in hand.

"Everyone else follow me," the Bravo captain instructed.

* * *

Louie looked up from his nails when he heard voices down below. He knitted his brows and jogged to the stairwell. He looked down and saw what, to him, looked like ordinary cops. He squinted upon seeing Chris, followed by Barry, and Wesker; Jill and Brad followed behind. Each had their guns to the side as they hid against the wall until Chris said, "Clear." It wasn't until Louie noticed the STARS logo did he back up in a hurry.

"We gotta go!"

"What are you talking about?" Bob said.

"S-STARS," Louie said.

_Chris? _Claire thought and almost smiled. _Wesker…_

Bob gave a frustrated sigh. "Damn…well fuck it; as long as we got this little girl, we're going out the front door. They won't shoot a civilian."

"No, but we might shoot you," Enrico said with his gun pointed at Bob.

Bob and Louie turned around to find the Bravo team at the ready.

"Don't move!" Chris yelled as he and the other Alpha members entered the hallway.

"No, shit," Louie retorted. He aimed his pistol at Claire. "One move and the little girl gets it. I mean it…"

Chris bit his lip. _Claire…_He knew he should be calm; trying to attack the two gunmen would only result in a failed mission—someone would get killed.

"Back away from the girl and we'll make sure you get 25 to life," Enrico said with an intense gaze.

"Pfft. 25 to life?" Bob scoffed and pressed his pistol harder against Claire's temple. "What makes you think we'd want that?"

"What makes you think you wouldn't?" Wesker asked coolly. "We can negotiate if you'd like? How about a barrage of bullets into your bodies? By the time we are done, there won't be much of you to identify."

Chris shot Barry a look of confusion, and all Barry could do was shrug. Was Wesker trying to get Claire killed?

"Ah, the wise-guy, huh?" Bob asked examining Wesker. "Mr. Cool behind those glasses…I bet you think you're hot shit." He glanced at Claire and back at Wesker. "Let's see how hot."

Bob cocked his gun and Claire gasped.

"Wait!" Wesker said, curling his lip in disgust. "What is it you want then?"

"We want out. No cops. No guns. Just me and my accomplice…" Bob narrowed his eyes at Wesker, gripping his pistol tighter. Louie watched his back; Bravo team didn't let up.

"Fine," Wesker said and threw his Samurai Edge to the side. "Put your guns down."

"Are you fuckin' crazy, Wesker?!" Chris said by his captain's ear. "You're just gonna let 'em go?"

"Now's not the time, Chris." Wesker's focus never left the gunmen. "You may take your leave after you release the civilian in your arms. You have my word."

Bob gestured at the other Alpha members. Wesker turned to his team and nodded. They dropped their guns and backed away. Bravo did the same. When the STARS members had discarded their weapons, Bob motioned for Louie to follow him down the stairwell, still keeping his eyes on Wesker before disappearing.

"Chris!" Claire ran to Chris and jumped in his arms, streams of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Chris. I-I didn't mean to be in the middle."

"Shh, easy, Claire. I don't care about any of that. I'm just glad you're ok!" He hugged her tightly and planted a kiss on her forehead. "It's ok…" He gave a glance at the back of Wesker's head; his captain's gaze was still stuck on the stairwell.

"I can't fuckin' believe it!" Enrico shouted. "I hope you have a good explanation for this shit, Wesker. That was a rookie move." Everyone winced.

Richard was about to open his mouth to add further insult, but saw Wesker's clenched jaw and refrained from speaking period.

Suddenly, a loud shot rang out and everyone moved over to the window and looked down. A body lay flat on the cement, blood escaping onto the pavement. It was Bob, barely moving. Louie made a run for it. Another shot rang out and hit Louie in the leg. He toppled over and didn't get up.

"I think you forgot about Forest, Enrico," Wesker said after a period of silence. His voice was like ice. He turned to the Bravo captain. "Not remembering where your men were placed—now _that _is a rookie move." He pressed the button on his earpiece. "Dispatch, this is Captain Albert Wesker of the STARS Alpha Team. We need an ambulance right away."

* * *

Claire sat in the back of Chris' STARS cruiser, waiting and watching as her brother and Barry questioned some witnesses; Wesker was away talking to one of the paramedics; the other members of Alpha and Bravo loitered around the cruisers and pushed students and the press from the scene. Claire sighed and sat back in her seat. If people didn't know who she was, they did now.

A female reporter nearly slammed herself into the window and Claire moved away from it. She began asking questions from the outside, with her camera man by her side.

"This is not happening," Claire groaned as camera flashes pummeled her on either side of the cruiser.

"That's enough." Wesker's voice cut through the chaos. "Get these people back, Brad, Joseph. C'mon!" He looked at Claire through the window, eyes boring into Claire from behind his glasses. Claire moved closer to the window and put her hand to the glass, like a child trapped inside. Wesker put a hand up for her to wait, and he went to Chris. He said something Claire could not hear. Within moments Wesker was back. He opened the door and reached for Claire, shielding her from cameras and the story-hungry reporters, as he directed her to his cruiser. He opened the passenger door and she slid in. Wesker removed his tactical vest and handed it to Claire.

"Cover yourself until we leave," he ordered. Claire didn't hesitate. She grabbed the vest and buried her head inside it, inhaling Wesker's masculine scent, which smelled slightly of cologne and sweat. Wesker started the car and drove past the crowd that was hounding toward them.

"It's alright now," Wesker said as he turned onto the main street.

"What about Chris?" Claire asked out of the blue, removing the vest and holding it in her lap.

"He's going to finish questioning his witness…probably going to ask her if she will testify in court." Wesker looked over at Claire, who had her blue eyes on him. "He's going to have to show…all of us will…even you."

"That's fine," Claire said with a shrug. "I'll do what I can to help." She looked away from him and concentrated on the scenery as they zoomed by. "Thank you, Wesker."

"For what?"

"Don't…you know what. You saved my life." Claire patted his arm. "I could've been a gonner, so thank you."

Wesker stopped at the red light. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "It was my job, Claire. You don't have to thank me for doing that," he said without looking at Claire. She focused on the vest, suddenly feeling somewhat defeated for her thanks being rejected.

It wasn't long before the cruiser pulled up to Claire's house. The only light on was the lamp that Chris had purposely left on, thinking it would trick a burglar to reconsider breaking in. She wanted to roll her eyes. That was one of the oldest and cheesiest tricks in the book.

"Well, thanks for the ride," Claire said with a wave and exited the vehicle, still holding the vest. Wesker shut the vehicle off and opened his door, stepping out into the afternoon light.

"If I may, Miss Redfield…" Wesker followed Claire to her porch. "I want to make sure everything is as it should be. Someone may be threatening your life."

Claire scrunched her face in confusion as she pulled out the house key.

_Miss Redfield? Back to calling me that, huh? And what's with the professionalism all of a sudden?_

Once the door was opened, Claire was surprised Wesker was right behind her. He closed the door and removed his glasses, inspecting the living room with mild interest.

"Ok, what the hell is going on?" Claire asked with her hands in the air. "Why the sudden change in formality? You were being a cold turd in the car, and when I was trying to thank you you shrugged it off. Now you're calling me Miss Redfield again—which I hate by the way."

Wesker picked Claire up by the waist and threw her on the couch, straddling her waist and keeping her hands above her head.

He smirked. "Did you really think I could say what I wanted in the car, or in public?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "I don't see why not. Freedom of speech still applies, right?"

The blond chuckled and nuzzled Claire's neck, licking along her collar bone. "Every cruiser has a camera on the dash that records audio and video, Claire. They will likely be examined and possibly used in court. What do you think would happen to me if they found out I was doing this to you?" In one motion, Wesker tore Claire's shirt down the middle, exposing her bra and flat stomach. She tried covering up, and looked away in embarrassment when she couldn't free her hands.

"Wesker! What the fu—

The Alpha captain drowned Claire's words with his lips, passing his tongue through to play with Claire's. He pulled back. "Or this?" He pulled her bra down until her nipples peered above the cups. He went down and ran his tongue over each of them before settling on one, sucking on it like a baby.

"Oh, God…" Claire breathed as she fought back several moans. "Wesker…we shouldn't…"

"No," he said, looking up at Claire. His eyes were filled with lust. "We shouldn't…but we are." He went back to her nipples. "Besides, I don't hear you complaining."

"But Chris…"

"Oh, enough about _Chris_," Wesker said in annoyance, planting kisses down her stomach until he reached her belly button. "He should be happy that you're in _very_ good hands." He released another chuckle before unbuttoning Claire's jeans. She didn't stop him then. How could she? What was wrong in this situation felt right, _extremely _right.

"Ah, black panties?" Wesker nodded in approval before pulling them down. He took a finger and massaged Claire's moist clit, as it swelled under his touch. Claire bucked in response, gripping Wesker's hand that was holding her hip down. He gave the clit one last rub and moved lower, teasing Claire's entrance before pushing one finger in.

Wesker relished Claire's face as she fought pain against pleasure. He smiled, enjoying the torture as another digit was added. He curved his fingers upward and began to make a scratching motion with them. Claire began pushing herself backwards towards the arm of the couch. Wesker pressed harder against her hip.

"Relax," he said seductively. "And cum for me…" His voice was so thick with lust, that he didn't even sound like the same man; Claire had to crack an eye open to make sure he was. She took several short breaths in between moans, and when Wesker noticed her body tense he moved closer to Claire's opening.

"Wesker…I-I'm gonna…" Claire released a long moan and squirted all over Wesker's long sleeve shirt.

"That's it," he said, rubbing Claire until she slowed her hips. "Good girl…" He pulled his fingers out and gave her clit one more tap before pulling her panties back up, her jeans right after.

Claire was in ecstasy: she stared up at the ceiling, her mind in space as she barely begun to register what had happened. Her pants turned into long, tiresome breaths, and she sat up when Wesker released her.

"What…what just happened?" Claire asked, still unable to believe what she experienced, as she looked at Wesker in confusion.

Wesker chuckled as he made his way over to the sink in the kitchen to wash up. "I believe you had one intense orgasm." He turned so Claire could see her juices over his shirt. "As you can see…" He walked back over to Claire and picked up his tactical vest from the floor. He strapped up, smoothed his hair back and fixed the folds of his sleeves, leaving no detail untouched.

"Is that what it was?" Claire replied sarcastically, knowing exactly what it was; as always, Wesker had dodged the question. What had just happened between _them_?

Wesker picked up his glasses and slipped them on before taking a seat on the loveseat sofa, and relaxed into it as though he was a regular guest. He rested his head against the seat.

"You should freshen up. Chris will be here soon." Wesker's usual smirk was in place. "I can only imagine what he would say if he saw his little sister so flushed and out of breath."

Claire took a deep breath, at last calming her racing heartbeat. She stood, covering her chest immediately. "And I can only imagine what he would say if he found out it was because of you." Claire looked at her tattered shirt and sighed. "You didn't have to go and rip it…" Wesker chuckled. "It's not funny. This was one of my favorite shirts, Wesker."

"Material objects should not cause such despair," Wesker replied with the shake of his head. He looked at Claire and saw how distraught she was. "It can be replaced, Claire. Really, you shouldn't linger on such things."

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't rip it, jerk," Claire retorted and stalked off to her room. She returned with fresh clothes and a towel. "You can let yourself out."

"No, I think I'll wait until your brother arrives—as I was asked by him to do." Wesker crossed his legs and closed his eyes. "Unless, of course, you'd rather have me wash your hair."

"Ugh!" Claire disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Wesker to his own musings until Chris arrived.

* * *

Claire sat on the couch with a glazed look in her eyes as she flipped through the channels. She was dressed in a tank top and sweatpants with her hair in a bun.

Chris came into the living room with a bowl of popcorn. "Anything good on?" He plopped into the loveseat sofa, and when Claire didn't answer, he snatched the remote from her. Claire watched Chris continue flipping through the channels until he stopped on COPS. Claire rolled her eyes.

"You ok?" Chris asked with concern. "You seem upset."

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm fine. Just…"Claire paused, "tired I guess." She hoped that was believable. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep, Chris. It's been a long day."

Chris nodded. "Alright. Sleep tight, booger face. I'll be up for a while, so if you can't sleep…"

"Alright. G'night," Claire said after a yawn and started for her room. She closed her door, shut off the light and nearly passed out on her bed. Today had been a rough one. Being held at gunpoint wasn't the worst thing she had experienced, though it was pretty close. Of course, that's not what Claire was thinking about. A certain blond man had left more than an impression on her…

Claire opened her phone—the light illuminating her face—as she searched for the previous messages she had exchanged with Wesker. She hit the 'reply' icon.

_'Can I ask you something?' _She wrote, and just as the message was sent, regret immediately set in. It was nearly eleven-thirty at night. Her eyes lit up when the phone buzzed in the darkness. She opened the message.

_'Of course,' _Was Wesker's short reply.

Claire took a deep breath and contemplated ignoring the text altogether, and just heading to sleep instead. She shook her head; she was probably responsible for waking him up.

And so she began to type…

_'Why didn't you…' _Claire thought about the slang guys used for masturbation. _'…jack-off when we were messing around?' _She hit send and buried her face in the pillow, feeling the heat creeping over her features. Wesker didn't respond right away and that worried Claire. Maybe she had taken it too far by asking something so bold. Hell, Wesker was probably pissed beyond belief that she would have the nerve to ask such a personal question.

The phone buzzed and Claire opened the phone immediately.

_'Because I would rather have someone do it for me.' _Claire's eyes widened and she almost screamed into her pillow.

The phone buzzed again.

_'Perhaps next time you could be that person.'_

"Oh, shit," Claire said, muffled by her pillow. "You are _not _doing this to me, Wesker."

She began to type. _'I guess that depends if I'm feeling up to it.'_

"That'll show you, Wesker. Think you can get me…" Claire said with a smile, suddenly feeling victorious for playing hard to get.

The phone buzzed.

_'After I'm done with you you won't be able to feel anything. I'll be surprised if you're able to speak.'_

Claire's face fell. "You dirty bastard…" Sure, she said it like she was offended, but deep down Claire was turned on. If Wesker was there with her, she'd…well…

_'I guess this theory of yours will be tested soon enough,' _Claire wrote.

'_I practice what I preach, Claire. When it comes to me, there's no such thing as a theory.'_

As much as Claire wanted to continue, she felt drowsy and sleep was slowly taking over.

_'If you say so,' _Claire wrote. _'Goodnight, Wesker.'_

The phone buzzed shortly after.

_'Goodnight, Claire.'_

**Holy Hell! This chapter took nearly two full days to write. I'm too tired to see all the mistakes I've made lol I tried to make it long without going on like a broken record lol I hope I did justice, seeing as I've been getting lots of replies asking for updates haha someone even said, "update. Now," hahahaha I was like, "ok, then…" haha There you are my readers. I apologize for not updating Monday; it was my birthday, and I came home late, too late to finish. But, hey, I spent the entirety of my bday writing, so there's some good news ;) Let me know what you think! PM's are welcomed as are reviews! :D Until next time!—Lil V.**


	5. Suspicion

**Hey everyone. Hope you're all fine and dandy and if you're not…well, I don't know -_- But hopefully this chapter will cheer you up. Not that it's meant to, but maybe it will take your mind off reality for a while ;) Have at it!**

**Oh, and on a side-note, this chapter is dedicated to my friend, The Grim Reaper, whose been my supporter and "writer buddy" for a long time. She's awesome. I highly recommend her stuff if you're a fan of Legacy of Kain, and Kingdom Hearts. PM her and read her stuff! She's a real pal!;)**

**Also, thanks for the recent reviews, favs, follows…it does my heart good :3**

**Suspicion**

"So it's infected?" Wesker asked while adjusting his glasses as he watched the dazed Doberman slowly pace the floor from behind the two-way mirror.

"With a very small dose of the T-Virus, but infected nonetheless," the man in the lab coat replied before typing something on the computer. Wesker watched a few codes pop up on the screen, and rubbed his chin, waiting for what was to come. The sound of air being released from the other side of the glass caused Wesker to look away from the computer. From inside the steel room, a hidden door had opened up to reveal another Doberman, growling immediately upon seeing the infected one. He tensed, pulling his ears back as he slowly circled his sick 'brother.' The infected dog barely took notice, focusing more on the sound of his nails 'clicking' and 'clacking' while his body swayed from side to side as though he were drunk.

"Is he that stupid that he can't sense the other one?" Wesker asked out of frustration, almost wanting to hit the glass to provoke the dogs.

"He can sense him alright. He just won't attack him unless the other makes a move first." The scientist turned in his chair to look up at Wesker. "You see, the infected one doesn't know it's infected; he only knows he's capable of killing if threatened. All instincts other than that have been cut off, for reasons, I'm assuming, that relate to the side-effects of the virus, hence why he's so docile at the moment. Now the healthy one knows something's wrong with the other, if you can't tell already, which is why he's "circling his prey," so to speak."

"The infected one, however, will be the one to attack first," Wesker added dryly, clearly not interested with the obvious conclusion. "Though not without proper stimulation…"

The scientist went back to the computer. "Aren't you a sharp knife," he replied, words dripping with sarcasm, as he typed away.

"The sharpest."

Another sound of escaping air filled the inside of the steel room; a small compartment opened up where the healthy dog had entered. A small canister rolled out with force: the healthy dog watched it slow to a stop; the infected dog paid no heed. Smoke released with a hiss, quickly enveloping both dogs in a white cloud.

They were not completely shrouded, Wesker noticed, seeing two black masses through the fog. He noticed the mass closest to him—the infected dog—suddenly lunge towards the other dog; growling and barking came first—the typical sounds before the onslaught. Then came the ear piercing screeches and howls from within, as the two masses came together with a mixture of red—blood red. The sound of tearing flesh and a wet noise that sounded like liquid being lapped up, was all that was heard next when the smoke finally cleared. The infected dog was licking around the other's neck, seemingly enjoying the nectar its so-called instincts had forced it to drink.

When the dog finally finished, he moved away and went back to pacing in the center of the room, leaving the slain body of his former brother for Wesker and the scientist to see. Blood-covered, matted fur gleamed in the overhead light; frozen limbs jutted out as though the dog had been stuffed for display by some taxidermist.

Wesker gave a low chuckle, causing the scientist to throw a glance. "My, my, aren't you the brilliant scientist, William. It seems you have found an excellent way to provoke an infected dog." Wesker pulled off his glasses for a clean-up. "I never would've guessed…"

"Don't patronize me, Al," William said before sitting back in his chair. "Juuust watch."

As if on cue, the supposed dead dog began to flinch. Spasms wracked through its body like shocks of electricity. Its limbs slowly curled back, causing ripples in the spilled blood underneath it, and pushed itself into a sitting position.

William stole a look at Wesker and smiled, seeing the interest the dog seemed to ensnare him with written on his face.

The dog willed its strength to its front legs to get the back ones to stand, and when it did, the dog, momentarily, stumbled like a newborn fawn until he was able to stabilize himself on all fours. The first infected dog acknowledged is presence with perked ears and a look over, before he went back to pacing. The other joined him.

There was no mistake. The dog was alive.

"So? What do you think? Incredible, isn't it?" William asked before typing away at the computer again. A humming noise came from the printer as it came to life, producing a few copies of data for Wesker to see.

"Here are the results of the previous tests, including this one." William handed the papers to Wesker, who eagerly took them into his hands. "I thought you'd be interested to know that every dog tested came back to life just as this one did here." He frowned when he noticed his cup on the table was empty, and sighed. He spinned around in his chair and started for the coffee maker in the back of the room.

"Damnit," William cursed under his breath, though loud enough to get Wesker's attention. William gave an apologetic look. "We only have decaf," he muttered with a shrug. "I thought I told Annette…" he trailed off, pulling the decaf out anyway. He pulled out a filter and poured the ground coffee into the maker.

"This is brilliant, William," Wesker said in the driest tone, not meaning to give praise outright. William deserved credit, and Wesker was able to give credit where he deemed it deserved, but the data in his hand, though "brilliant," would not be enough to wow the Umbrella heads; they already knew what the virus would do once inside the body.

_If only there were something stronger…_

"Oh, don't be modest, Al. No, I'm kidding. Of course it's brilliant!" William filled his cup with decaf. "I've spent about three weeks running those tests—with only a few hours of rest, mind you." He tapped the coffee maker. "Me and this little guy have become quite close."

"How charming," Wesker replied and tossed the data on the table. "Have you tested on anything else besides dogs?"

"What do you mean, like, other animals?" William looked up in thought. "A few rabbits and mice, of course, but none compared to the success of the dogs." He raised the cups to his lips, eyeing Wesker with suspicion. "I've seen that look before." He drank. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

Chris swiveled in his computer chair with blank eyes as he stared up at the ceiling, keeping himself occupied with the acoustic tile. He had finished his paperwork early—a miracle to many, including his captain—and he sat there, not knowing what to do. Or, rather, caring what to do. Since Wesker hadn't been in all morning, Chris thought it'd be nice to just relax—do his work, but relax. He didn't want his captain to explode if he didn't finish his work (which usually happened when he didn't) so Chris made sure to get all that pain-staking crap out of the way.

Barry had been put in charge for the remainder of the day, or when Wesker decided to return, and advised everyone to be on their toes incase their beloved captain should come back cranky—well, more than usual.

"You know, you shouldn't waste your time sitting around, Chris," Barry began while opening a bag of chips. "Hell, I thought you'd be out on the range or working out, or something…"

"I'm just not in the mood, Barry." Chris looked over at his friend. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as a clam, it's just…" He shrugged.

Jill rolled over to Barry's side of the desk, and took a handful of chips when offered. "It's about Claire, isn't it?" She asked before munching down on her snack.

"Well…yeah, I guess," Chris said carefully and sat up in his chair. "That day we raided the school…and when I saw how frightened she was, I just…I wanted to make that fucker holding her suffer, you know? I mean, she's all I have left." He saw how Jill and Barry were looking at him, and he turned away, slightly embarrassed. "Ah, forget it…its old news."

"C'mon, Chris," Barry said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "We've all had thoughts of losing someone very close to us. It's not a pretty thought, I know, but you can't let the "what if's?" get to you." Chris turned back to Barry. "Look, pal," Barry continued, "you know that we would've done anything we could to save Claire had the situation not turned in our favor. You know this. You know that Jill and me, Brad, Joseph, Forest, Enrico, Wesker…we all would've given our lives to save her." Barry removed his hand. "You just have to trust us, Chris. And more importantly, you have to trust yourself. Claire's alive and well. Be thankful for that."

A smile formed on Chris' lips. "Since when did you become the fuckin' Sage around here?" Chris laughed and pushed Barry so he rolled a few inches back in his chair. "Thanks, buddy."

"Don't mention it, pal." Barry looked at his watch and sighed. "Well, looks like it's patrol time." He looked at Brad. "You're riding with Frost today, Brad."

"As long as he doesn't put a "kick me" sign on me like last time." Brad gave Joseph a look of annoyance.

"A "kick me" sign?" Chris inquired. "What the hell were you guys doing?"

"I was bored," Joseph said bluntly. "You guys know how boring patrol is when nothing good is happening." He removed his bandana, flipped it over a few times to get the wrinkles out, and then placed it back on his head. "Brad just happened to be there. I would've done the same to you, and Barry…" his eyes landed on Jill, "and—"

"I would've broken your nose," Jill said with a smile. "Just giving you a forewarning, Frost."

Joseph smirked. "Always with the violence, Jill." He motioned for Brad to follow him. "C'mon, Chicken, let's get this over with."

Chris' eyes lingered on the exit after Brad and Joseph departed. "Huh, those two…well, at least Brad won't have to be paired with Forest. He'd really be suffering then." Chris felt a vibration in his pocket and slid his hand inside it, pulling his phone out in the process. It was a message from Claire.

_'I'll be there soon, fat head. Love ya.'_

Chris shut his phone and put it back in his pocket. He opened his drawer and pulled out his carton of cigarettes. He pulled a white stick out and held it between his fingers, grabbing his lighter before pushing the drawer shut.

"I'm going out for a smoke. Let me know when Claire gets here." Chris held a finger up in warning. "And don't tell her what I'm doing. If she finds out, she'll have a heart-attack."

* * *

Class had ended early, and Claire was relieved to be free. She couldn't stand math. There was just something about formulas, graphs, and numbers in general that she just didn't like. She grimaced.

_Well it's a good thing you don't want to go into anything that requires basic math skills, right?_

Claire pulled out her CD player and skipped over a number of songs, until she landed on the one she wanted. Content, she put her headphones on and continued down the hall. The elevator came into view and Claire waited for it to open. Just as she was about to step in, someone tapped her shoulder. She spun around, simultaneously removing her headphones.

"Woah," said the young man. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

Claire narrowed her eyes. _I know him…oh, wait, he's from my math class. George-no! Johnny? Kevin? Shit…he's cute though._

"Heh, yeah, um…I-I'm Greg f-from your math class?"

_Greg. _"Yeah, I thought I recognized you," Claire nodded, putting on a fake smile. "What's up?"

"Nothing much, just wanted to talk to you…"

_A cute boy wants to talk to me?_

"…about what happened here last week. You know, about the shooting? Your name was in the paper, and there was a huge story…"

Claire's face fell in disbelief as she listened to Greg go on about everything she already experienced.

_Seriously?_

"And there was a couple pictures in there of a few of the STARS members. That must've been cool—being saved by Raccoon's best."

_Oh, Lord, he's a fan boy._

"Um…yeah, I guess it was cool." Claire gave a shrug and inched towards the elevator. "But, you know, it's over and done with." She pressed the button for the first floor. Just as the doors were closing, Greg nearly wedged his way inside the elevator.

"Well, I'm sure you were pretty brave. I mean, really, not everyone can keep their cool when they have a gun against their head," Greg went on. "Your family must've been worried sick."

"My brother was," Claire muttered, staring up at the illuminated numbers as they descended the building, praying they would move faster. "Not to be rude or anything, but why the sudden curiosity? No offence, but you never talked to me before this."

Claire saw him shrug his shoulders and look to the ground. "I don't know. Maybe I was waiting for the perfect moment to strike," he replied with a smirk, something that deeply reminded her of Wesker.

Claire smiled. Greg was definitely _not _Wesker; not even close. She had to admit, Greg did have some charm to him. And it wouldn't hurt to have a friend.

The elevator stopped on the first floor, and the two exited before it filled with students. They started for the parking lot, Claire absentmindedly following Greg until they stopped by a blue Mustang.

"Where's your car? I'll drive you to it if you want? You know how hard it is to walk in and out of these lots without almost getting killed." Greg flashed a toothy smile that made Claire a little fuzzy. Perfect rows of white teeth lined his gums; he even produced a dimple on his cheek.

She shook her head. "Uh, no-I mean, I take the bus, so…" She gestured behind her. "Gotta go."

"Well, wait! I'll give you a ride. It's no biggie."

"I appreciate that, Greg, but I won't be going straight to my house. I-uh…I'm meeting my brother at work to…"Claire thought about it. "…he's getting me lunch?" She wanted to smack herself.

_Lunch? C'mon, Claire, don't fumble the damn ball._

Claire sighed. The excuse sounded so lame, that even Chris would shake his head. But she had to make something up. She didn't want to tell Greg that she had to be debriefed by her own brother, at the RPD no less; he would go fan boy crazy on her.

"Um, ok. I can still drop you off. It's not like I'm trying to be the third wheel, Claire. I'm just trying to help."

_Well, you probably creeped the poor guy out, Claire. You might as well win his favor back or you can kiss that friendship goodbye._

"Alright. But you're sure it's no trouble?" Claire said moving around to the passenger side.

"Not at all," Greg said before following Claire to her side. He unlocked the door and opened it, offering the seat. "After you."

Claire blinked several times before replying with a smile. She ducked her head as she moved into the seat.

Déjà vu…

Greg started up the car; the engine rumbled as it idled. "Alrighty, let's get going."

* * *

The two pulled into the RPD parking lot and stopped outside the entrance. Claire turned to thank Greg and saw that his attention was glued to the precinct. Claire wanted to roll her eyes.

"Thanks for the ride—"

"You didn't tell me your brother worked here. That's so awesome." He sounded like a little kid that just had his dream come true. "What does he do?"

"What does he do? He's a police officer, duh."

"I gotta meet him. Please? I-I'm studying Criminal Justice, so maybe he can give me some pointers. C'mon, Claire, just a few minutes?"

Claire was slightly taken aback at the request, having already told him that she had plans with her brother. But…he _was _nice enough to give her a ride, so this was the least she could do.

"Alright," Claire said finally. "But only for a few minutes. He's usually very busy."

Greg's face lit up in excitement. "Awesome! Let me just park the car."

Claire moved back as Greg pulled away to park. She sighed, slightly regretting her decision; Chris would have a cow if she brought this guy in, not just to the station, but in general.

_I guess we're both shit outta luck: Chris is probably gonna kill him and bury his body, and then he's gonna come after me…or just ground me…_

Greg jogged up to Claire with a big smile. "Ok, lead the way."

Once inside, the two stopped by the reception desk. Greg was transfixed on the officers: the way they carried themselves—so cool and calm, unusual for a precinct; they just sort of stood around and conversed like they were at some cocktail party.

Greg knitted his brows. "Is it usually this slow, or is everyone on break?"

"It's slow for _them. _I guess there have been so many incidents that require Special Forces, Chief Irons has been burning the STARS team out by sending them for every call. They're spreading the team too thin. Trust me, I know."

Claire started for the stairs with Greg right behind, stealing a glance at every officer they passed. He couldn't believe it. Raccoon's finest were practically on vacation at work, while everything was shoved in the STARS members' face. They reached the second floor, and Claire could only imagine Greg's face when they came to their destination. The door flew open and Joseph came out, shielding his head as if expecting something to be thrown at him. Claire could briefly hear the rolling thunder of Wesker's voice before the door swung closed.

"Hey, Frost, what the heck is going on in there?" Claire asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

Joseph took his bandana off and wiped his forehead. "Claire. Whew! You do _not_ want to be here right now. Wesker's on a warpath."

_What else is new?_

"What? Why? Did Chris do something again?" Claire felt bad for pointing a finger at her brother, but since their quarrel last time, signs might point to him.

Joseph shook his head. "Nah, not this time." Claire gave a sigh of relief. "I know, right? No, I don't know what it was that set him off. He came to work edgier than usual, and then he was talking with the chief, and the ringing of the phones didn't help…he's probably really stressed right now. I don't blame him, though. We've all been pretty upset these past couple of weeks. Psh, I haven't slept in twenty-four hours. We had to start doing double shifts with Bravo."

"So that's why Chris has been coming home so late…" Claire thought for a moment. It made sense.

The Alpha door opened again—Wesker's voice filling the air—before Brad slammed it behind him. He was sweating bullets, and breathing like he ran a marathon.

"I'm not going back in there," Brad stated upon seeing Joseph. "He's going to kill someone, and it's not gonna be me." He brushed past the three. "I'm going to get air," he muttered to his teammate before descending the stairs.

Joseph gave an 'I told you so' look and shrugged. "I know you have your…" he glanced at Greg and cleared his throat before returning to Claire. "I mean…just ask Chris to reschedule or something." He gave Claire a pat on the shoulder. "I'm going with Chicken, so whatever you decide, may the force be with you." He forced a smile and headed for the stairs.

"Maybe you should wait outside, Greg. I just need to talk to my brother really quick. Besides, I don't think Wesker would want anymore 'unwanted attention' from civilians, if you catch my drift."

_Wesker doesn't need you asking for an autograph or anything._

Greg was ready to protest; Claire could see his mouth open, ready to debate, but he closed it and nodded. "Alright. I'll wait on this bench for you."

"Ok." Claire went to the door and slowly poked her head in. Chaos. Utter Chaos. The office looked like someone had come in with a leaf blower, paper thrown in every direction, covering the tile like snow; a STARS mug laid in ruins, ceramic pieces scattered across the floor, with the trail leading into the captain's office; the giant STARS banner that used to hang on the wall had fallen to the ground, looking as though it had been shredded.

_My God, Wesker, what have you done?_

Claire's head shot up when the captain's door opened, revealing a red-faced Chris, nearly yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah, well it's not our fault we're being sent out, Wesker! I'm not the damn chief!"

"Watch your tone with me, Chris, or you'll be sent home," Wesker said in a slightly calmer voice. "You know I didn't ask Irons to assign us to every damn call that comes in, but I can't do anything once the assignment hits my desk. What do you want me to do, ignore it?"

"I want you to stop being a prick! You've been treating us like crap this whole week, and it's starting to get on everybody's last nerve, especially mine."

"Forgive me for not brining my violin to work today," Wesker retorted, "but you haven't exactly been on your best behavior either."

"Well I'm not the _captain_, so I guess that's expected of a subordinate." It rolled off Chris' tongue bitterly. He left Wesker's door open and walked towards Claire, shaking his head as he went to his desk.

"I'm glad you finally admitted to your insolence, Chris," Wesker jabbed one last time. Chris stopped from packing up his stuff, ready to send another insult Wesker's way, but stopped. He didn't want things to end up horribly like last time. Chris clenched his fist and grabbed his duffle bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

"Chris? You're not leaving are you?" Claire asked, worry in her voice.

"Nah," he said quickly. "I'm going to go punch a bag and pretend it's Wesker's face." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Sorry you had to hear all that. I would've called you sooner, but he just snapped, like, ten minutes ago." He threw a glance at Wesker's door. "I mean he's been mad before, but…" Chris shrugged. "Anyway, you should head home, Claire. I'm gonna probably be here late again. If you want to take the Jeep…I'll catch a ride with Barry or somebody."

Claire rubbed her arm and looked passed her brother, keeping her eyes on Wesker's open door. She was sure he could hear them talking, listening while filling out paperwork or researching something on his computer.

Claire shook her head and looked up at Chris. "It's ok, Chris. I'll have my friend take me home. You do what you have to, and don't worry about me."

"Alright. Let me know when you get home, wheezy." He gave her head a playful rub before leaving the office. She waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps, before she turned back to Wesker's office. A strong grip tightened around her backpack straps as she moved forward, shoes sliding over the fallen paper with every step. As she neared, Claire could hear soft pants, the aftermath of unused adrenaline, coming from within the office. She kept one hand on the doorway and craned her head around to look in. Wesker was hunched over his desk with his back towards Claire: his STARS shirt had been discarded on his chair, which left him with his fitted white tee that neatly stretched over every muscle on his back.

"Wesker?" Claire recoiled slightly when his back muscles flexed under tension.

"Now's not the time, Claire. Please…" His voice was raspy and dry, assuming it was from murdering his vocal chords prior to her arrival. He didn't move, didn't attempt to look at her…he just panted away.

Claire sighed and moved closer towards him. "I know why you're stressed—

"No!" Wesker violently slammed his hand on the desk. "You don't!" He whipped around to face Claire's frightened expression and pointed a finger dangerously close. "Every day, I have to deal with a bunch of buffoons, who harangue me until my ears bleed, because they don't like the way things are operating. They think I control all the paperwork, all the calls, who patrols what, who covers whose ass—I don't! I just make a fuckin' judgment call, because that's my job!"

Claire's shoulders shrank slowly, suddenly regretting coming to see Wesker at all; this wasn't the same man as before. He never cussed, at least not in front of her; and suddenly, the gentleman façade dripped away like paint off a canvas. The calm had vanished long ago, leaving the coming of the storm.

"Now everyone feels they're being cheated," Wesker continued, no longer shouting, "because they have to be here longer—Alpha is helping Bravo out to ensure the citizens of this city are safe. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but everyone has been patrolling more frequently than usual: consequently, there have been many hate crimes and gang related violence occurring as of late—you unfortunately were caught in the middle of one." Wesker paused to take a deep breath, smoothing back his hair in the process, and leaning back on his desk, giving Claire a look over before continuing. "This precinct is on its way to Hell, and Irons is the gatekeeper."

Claire gave her lips a bite. "I guess this also has to do with the other officers too, right?"

"Ah…" Wesker rolled his tense shoulders. "Don't get me started on those worthless ingrates. They sicken me. Here they see the STARS struggling with the workload, having to sacrifice precious time to come to work, and they shrug it off as though we don't need them. 'They can handle it, they're STARS,' pah!" Wesker snorted with a shake of his head. "Utter blasphemy…"

Claire moved forward until she stood in front of Wesker. "Well for what it's worth, I think you make an excellent captain." Wesker smirked. "Really, Wesker. I know I haven't known you that long, but you seem to be a great leader and obviously care for your team and the people of Raccoon. I mean, out of everyone I know, I think you're the only person who could take on such a challenge." Wesker inched toward a smile. Claire had him. "Seriously, could you imagine Chris as captain? Or Forest, or Brad? No way! I love my brother, but I think he's too instinctive; he goes by his feelings way too much. Forest is too much of a goof, and Brad would probably pee his pants."

"Are you insulting my men?" He asked in amusement.

"It's not insulting if it's the truth."

Wesker released a chuckle. "Is that how you cheer people up, complimenting them and bad-mouthing everyone else?"

Claire's eyes widened in excitement. "Why, did I cheer you up?"

Wesker pulled Claire until she stood between his legs. She could feel him on her thigh, and pressed her lips together, trying not to let it distract her as she stared into black lenses.

"Perhaps," Wesker said thoughtfully as he ran a finger along Claire's jaw, "but I might need more convincing."

Claire pulled back slightly. "Then join a group therapy session."

Wesker pulled Claire back and crashed his lips against hers, cradling her neck with his hand, suffocating her as he pressed his nose closer. Claire grabbed a fist of blond hair and clenched it tightly between her fingers, slightly feeling the stickiness of his hair gel. Another hand moved up his chest, rubbing over the mounds of muscle that lay underneath the fabric. Wesker pulled back and reached for the hem of his shirt, wrinkling the corners in the process, before making an attempt to pull it over his head. Claire grabbed his fists, catching a glimpse of his rock-hard abs.

"No," she said out of breath, "we can't. Not here."

Wesker pulled his shirt back down. "Why not? I can lock the door."

"It's not that, its…" she gave a sigh. "…someone is waiting for me in the hall. He's supposed to give me a ride home."

"_He_?" Wesker's nose wrinkled before he released a 'hmm' sound.

"Yeah, he's just some guy in my math class. He gave me ride over here to meet up with Chris, but he—" Claire stopped herself, trying to conceal the smile that threatened to show. "He _insisted_ that he accompany me here. I guess he wanted to meet some of you guys…or, you know."

"Excuse me," Wesker said flatly as he stood to retrieve his long sleeve on the chair. He put it on quickly and turned his back to fasten the buttons. Claire could guess Wesker didn't like the fact that her friend was a guy, but more importantly, why this guy had postponed Wesker's sexual advances, even though they were barely scratching the surface of full-on sex. Claire had to admit, she messed up.

Wesker grabbed his keys from his drawer and put them in his pocket. When he finally looked at Claire, she could see the relaxation from his face disappear. "Let's go," he instructed and Claire followed obediently.

Greg sprang up when the Alpha door opened. Claire came out first, Wesker closing the door behind her. He stood there for a moment while Claire went to her 'friend.'

"Jeez, is everything ok? I thought I was gonna have to bust a rescue mission," Greg said seriously. His expression changed when Wesker approached, suddenly feeling belittled by the captain's appearance.

Wesker placed a hand on Claire's shoulder. "Thanks, but she's in no danger. In fact to save you any trouble, I will be accompanying Miss Redfield home. She's very valuable to me and the team, and if her brother found out some neighborhood _boy _was giving her rides, you might have to go into Witness Protection."

Claire forced her mouth shut, pleading with her eyes for Greg to forgive her. Greg's eyes moved to Claire and back up at Wesker.

"You don't intimidate me," Greg sneered, balling his fists. "I respect you as a police officer, so I won't insult you, but I will point out your lack of judgment."

"Oh? _Not_ a boy, then?"

"Wesker," Claire growled. "Stop."

"No, I'm a man. And second, I may have just met Claire, but I can tell you that I would never let anything happen to her. My mother raised me to always be a gentleman and put others before me, especially when it comes to a lady."

Claire's face scorched red, and bit her lip when she felt Wesker's hand on her shoulder tighten.

"Ah. Well, you can be a gentleman to any lady you want—just not this one. I've already got it covered." Wesker moved Claire along towards the stairs without another word, leaving a jaw-clenching Greg to look after them. Claire looked over her shoulder and mouthed several 'sorrys' to him, before disappearing.

* * *

"You shouldn't have said that stuff to Greg, Wesker," Claire said in between bites of her PB & J. Wesker sat at the counter with a newspaper in his hand, having only nibbled on the bread crust of his sandwich.

He flipped the page over and folded it. "What?" He answered absentmindedly, continuing to skim through the article. He tore a piece off the sandwich and slowly chewed the bread, eating it like he was reading a romantic drama.

"Greg. You shouldn't have said the things you did; he probably thinks you're a real dirt-bag by now."

Wesker folded the paper on the counter and finished off the piece of bread in his hand. "I highly doubt "dirt-bag" is the proper word. I wouldn't be surprised if he was in the process of creating a voo-doo doll of me." Claire raised a brow. "He seems like the type to hold grudges."

"Well I wouldn't know…" Claire drifted off and moved to open Wesker's fridge. She pulled out the fat-free milk. "He'll probably stay far away from me…" she muttered before grabbing a glass out of the cupboard. "Milk?"

"No, thank you." Wesker leaned on his elbows and watched Claire's disgruntled face as she poured the milk. "Forgive me. My intention was not to upset you."

"Hm," Claire said with interest before taking a drink of milk. "I think it's a bit late for that."

The wooden stool Wesker sat on slid on the tile as he stood, casually making his way over to Claire. He stood behind her and coiled his arm around her waist. She put her milk down quickly.

"I regret to say that I was somewhat blunt with your friend." With his free hand, Wesker unbuttoned Claire's jeans, forcing a gasp out of her. Pulling the zipper down… "I suppose I should've been on my best behavior…" He slid his fingers underneath Claire's underwear and gently rubbed her clit. Claire squirmed under his touch and Wesker pressed her against him. "However…I was the authority, and therefore he shouldn't have spoken out against an officer." He plunged a finger inside of her.

"Wesker…" She broke away from his grasp and turned to kiss him, catching him off-guard. With her mouth occupied, Claire went for his belt-taking slightly longer than she had anticipated in unclasping it—and pulled his zipper down. She boldly reached inside, fingers bumping into Wesker's groin before grasping the semi-hard shaft in her hand.

Wesker chuckled into Claire's ear, hot breath sending her body into shivers as he forced her hand into a stroking motion. "Push the skin up slightly…good, just like that…" A growl formed in Wesker's throat and was pushed out when he cocked his head to the side. He suddenly eased Claire from his form. She looked up at him in confusion and released his shaft. He nodded towards the couch, giving a mischievous smile that spoke a thousand words.

Wesker nearly pushed Claire onto the couch before straddling her like she was a mechanical bull. Seeing Wesker's form towering above her, Claire was suddenly losing her will to follow through with what she'd been doing prior. Sure, sex was everyone's curiosity in Highschool; if you didn't do it and people found out, you'd be laughed at and shunned like a leper. Although Claire never gave in to peer pressure or tried to follow the "trend" that was sex, she had lost her virginity when she was sixteen, one night she wished never happened.

Wesker pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the tile, keeping his hungry eyes on Claire. He removed his belt entirely, the metal buckle hitting hard, accompanying the fallen garment; cargo pants and boxers topped the pile. Claire couldn't help but stare at the impeccable form before her: lean muscle threatened to tear the skin, hugging against it tightly like a pair of spandex; veins ran along defined deltoids, biceps, forearms and abs, all the way down to Wesker's hard shaft—the thickest one trailing up the length.

_Good God! I'm going to cum and we haven't even started._

As if Wesker read her thoughts, he smirked, sliding his hands up to rub Claire's breasts, tugging at her shirt. Claire only arched her body up at the contact, and when she didn't catch on Wesker stopped.

"If you also value _this_ shirt, I suggest you remove it." He moved backwards so that he was on his knees, allowing Claire enough clearance to sit up. With the shirt halfway over her head, Wesker took the liberty to unbutton her jeans and pull them—along with her flower print underwear that caused Wesker to falter slightly—down, slipping her legs out before tossing them on the floor. He resumed his position on top when Claire slid back into the couch. Wesker kissed her hungrily, hands roaming over her curved, slim body, gripping her nipples and pulling at them, receiving moans of pleasure in reply. His mouth went for her neck as though he were a vampire, and began to bite and suck the skin, interchanging both actions; Claire felt a tingling sensation run down her left side, causing her to rake her nails across Wesker's back. Wesker bit down harder...enjoying hearing Claire moan, pain and pleasure fighting for control.

He pulled back, eyes grazing down Claire's body; his member couldn't harden anymore, and the wait to have release was killing him. He needed her now. He stroked himself a couple of times, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft, making sure he was lubed and ready; after today, Claire would definitely be sore. He placed his tip just outside her entrance, moving it in a circular motion, waiting for Claire to beg for him, to beg for release…

Claire opened her eyes, suddenly acknowledging that she'd closed them some time ago, and moved her hips closer so that Wesker could penetrate. "Tease," she whined as Wesker rubbed his tip over her swollen clit.

"Say you want me," he commanded haughtily, clearly enjoying his position of power and control. Claire bit her lip and shook her head. "No?" Wesker removed his member and began stroking it in his hand. "Then I suppose you'll have to relieve yourself; I can manage on my own." His voice was taunting, patronizing, arrogant, all wrapped up in a bow of bullshit, making it sound like Claire _needed _him, like she couldn't satisfy herself…but then again, how could she pass up such a delicious offer?

"I want you," Claire forced out, reluctantly pushing her own pride to boost Wesker's ego (as if he needed it).

He placed his tip back on her clit, circling. "Say it like you mean it, Claire. 'I want you, Wesker.' Say it!"

Claire could hear the impatience in his voice; she didn't want him to stop, and God forbid, he denied Claire any of this ever again.

"I want you, Wesker. I want you…" She was panting too hard, frustration almost breaking her until Wesker slid himself inside Claire, giving a low growl as he entered.

"Good, girl," he whispered as he began his thrusts, using one hand on the headrest of the couch for support. He pulled out, plunged back in, pulled out, and in, repeating the process, relishing the music that left Claire's mouth.

"Harder…" Claire whined, already feeling the strain on her body. Wesker obliged, lifting her hips at an angle, and plunging back into her, thrusting, panting…_needing. _He knew she was close to climaxing; he could see her gripping the leather of the couch, wrinkling it in her hands; her moans became louder, thick with lust as Wesker quickened his pace. He was near the edge, euphoria but a few thrusts away, as he threw his head back, clenching his jaw, fighting the music that threatened to escape his mouth; he refused to hear it. Claire's release followed Wesker's, tightening her body as they rode together in a wave-like motion, until euphoria was no more—manifesting like the flame of a candle until a sharp, cruel breeze had doused it. It was gone.

Pants replaced the silence. The smell of sex permeated the air, destroying the remnants of that fresh linen smell that Wesker had grown accustomed to over the years. He thought it was a nice touch.

He looked down at Claire, watching her face as he pulled out of her, seamen dripping down onto the couch like syrup. She looked up at him, dazed and possibly on another planet, and managed a smile.

"Well…guess I didn't see that one coming," Claire said, suddenly feeling a tad of regret. Messing around with Wesker was one thing, but having sex with the man (mind blowing sex, mind you), was pushing it, especially since she _really_ didn't know much about him. Sure, this could be counted as a fling, a one-night stand, what have you…but Claire didn't want that, and she supposed it was a bit late to change her mind. Wesker probably didn't see a future with her, let alone an actual relationship, and that worried Claire. She would not allow herself to be his sex toy whenever he had a bulge pushing though his pants. And if she didn't tell him now, he would never get the hint.

Wesker sat back into the couch, surprisingly still naked, and relaxed as though he'd just come back from work. Claire moved forward to sit next to him, and waited until she was acknowledged. Wesker took a deep breath that caused his member to move; this distracted Claire and she couldn't help but stare at it.

"You couldn't handle round two," Wesker said bluntly, finally regarding Claire with tired eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself," She replied before brushing him off. "I've had better."

"Hm, I highly doubt that, Claire, seeing as though all you seem interested in are premature boys." He smirked. "Tell me—how did it feel to have a _real _man inside you?"

Claire slapped Wesker across the face. "Fuck you." She stood in anger to retrieve her clothes; Wesker hadn't flinched. He slowly turned his face to look at Claire, clearly irritated by her actions.

"Did I hit a soft spot?"

She threw her clothes down in a huff. "Why the fuck do you always have to be a dick? Huh? What, you feel important now that you fucked me?"

"I don't have to fuck you to feel that."

Rage boiled over. "Motherfucker!" She threw her hands up. "Are you bipolar or something? You're nice one minute, something happens, you get pissed off, we mess around, and then you're a dick; that's the same thing that happened when you were at my house. I mean…" Claire shook her head. "What the hell, Wesker? Why would you treat me like that?"

Wesker grimaced and moved towards Claire like a panther ready to pounce. His voice was laced with anger. "First of all—no, I'm not bipolar. I am simply a man who knows what he wants, and will get what he wants no matter how he does it. I change for no one, Claire. I have _always_ been this way, and though my temper might flare and burn to some extent, I cannot simply cast it aside. You're not the first person who I've angered, so don't feel this is an attack." He lowered his head. "I'm not a nice man, and you don't want to get caught up with me. Do yourself a favor and don't get burned."

"You know what your problem is? You're afraid to let anyone get close to you because you're _afraid_, afraid that someone might alter your perspective; you don't want to let anyone in, because you have to be in control." Claire started to get dressed. Wesker's brows knitted together, lip curling as Claire continued her attack. Her voice became soft. "I remember when you took me home the night we had Burger Kong." She looked up at him, hurting from the memory. "You were nice to me then."

Wesker said nothing more, probably because Claire hadn't waited for his reply. She gathered up all her belongings and left the house, another déjà vu feeling overwhelming her as she refused to look back.

**Whew! What a chapter—my longest yet!:D Remember that roller coaster I told some of you Claire would be on? (That roller coaster named Wesker). Well, this is the start of it lol you can see it beginning in the previous chapter, when Wesker was being a smart ass lol Oh, Wesker…why? Lol Because I made him do it, that's why!:D *cough* Ok, enough with that…Hope you guys liked it. I tell ya, I get a little anxious when I upload lol PM me or review (or do both :D) and let me know what you think; don't worry, I can take it ;) Hope everyone is enjoying RE 6. I love it. Until next time!—Lil V.**


	6. Law and Order

**Why, hello, readers :3 Before you all impale or burn me, I must apologize for not updating weekly: life has been a tad mean as of late; aside from that, I've been trying to get my screenplay better (thanks to a handful of awesome people), so that's been taking some of my time as well. Hope everyone is well!XD**

***Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favored, or followed my story as of late. I REALLY appreciate it. You are my motivation XD And yes, Wesker thanks you too ;D Enjoy!**

* * *

**Law and Order**

"Can you point out the officer that 'negotiated' this deal with you, so that you and your accomplice," the lawyer looked over at the jury, "who is in critical condition at Raccoon General as we speak, could escape the building in exchange for this young woman?" he gestured to Claire, who sank in her seat when she felt all eyes on her.

Louie was on the stand, eyes lingering on Claire until he reluctantly looked over at a very serious Wesker, who was killing him with his stare. "That's him—the one with the shades," Louie said with a pointed finger.

The lawyer looked over at Wesker. "You mean Captain Albert Wesker?"

"If that's his name. I just remember the sunglasses." Louie looked to either side of Wesker where Forest and Chris sat, each with a slightly amused look on their faces at the mention of their captain's sunglasses, and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, those guys were with him, too; the long haired one shot me."

"Now don't get ahead of yourself, Mr. Banks," the lawyer said while looking though his notes. "I simply asked to point out Captain Wesker, not point fingers at another officer. But since we're on officer," he peered down at his notes, "Forest Speyer…you said that he allegedly shot you, correct? Can you tell the jury where?"

"My left leg," Louie said, voice full of scorn. "I'm sure he would've kept on shooting, too, had the other cops not been there. Trigger-happy bastard…" Before Forest could reply (or move to beat Louie to a pulp) Wesker shot him a look—a warning not to do anything out of line. Or perhaps it was a dare: embarrass us and expect a fight with the devil at the station. Forest was witty, immature even, but he wasn't stupid enough to cross his captain in front of the public; he didn't have a death wish.

"Now you're accusing Officer Speyer of attempted murder? Isn't that why you're here, Mr. Banks?" The lawyer pointed at Claire. "For Miss Redfield and a member of the Department?"

"Objection!" Cried the defense lawyer as he stood abruptly, "Your honor, he's accusing my client before we've heard any of the other testimonies. As of now, tangible evidence has yet to appear!"

"The tangible evidence is on Mr. Banks' leg—the bullet wound that was given to him by Officer Speyer," Claire's lawyer replied in the same tone. "He was armed along with Mr. Bob Wilks when they attempted to flee the scene! We have the firearms that were used by the suspects—the fingerprints match!"

"But Officer Speyer had no knowledge of the deal his captain had made with them, did he?"

"That is irrelevant! The two men were armed in a civilian populated area, and had already been seen by several faculty members in their attempt to kill a member of the chair." Claire's lawyer pulled out a few papers from his briefcase. "Your honor, if I may, I have several written statements by the aforementioned faculty members claiming they saw Mr. Banks and Mr. Wilks with guns…"

The bailiff came forward and took the papers from Claire's lawyer.

"…fortunately they were not in harm's way when they witnessed this. They were able to give accurate descriptions and easily pointed them out on the step wall when the said suspects were taken into custody."

"And who was it that questioned these witnesses?" The judge asked as he peered over the documents.

"Officers Chris Redfield and Barry Burton, who is not present with us, your honor."

Claire was getting real sick of all this Law and Order mumbo-jumbo, and decided she had enough. Rather than interrupting her lawyer, she gave a few coughs—nothing too loud or obnoxious—and then slowly coughed louder and harder each time, until her lawyer was forced to attend to Claire.

"Are you alright, Miss Redfield?" He asked as he bent down and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah," she managed to say between 'coughs,' "I think I need to go outside to get some water, though."

"Oh, of course." The lawyer turned his attention back to the judge. "Your honor, permission to break for recess?"

"Granted. We will reconvene in fifteen minutes." A smack of the gavel and everyone was up and moving. The bailiff took Louie by the arm and led him away to a side door by the judge's stand. Chris came down from his spot next to the jury to meet Claire, a slight touch of worry touched his features. Of course, the worried, overprotective brother couldn't give his little sister enough credit; in his book, she obviously wasn't ready to face the big ol' world by herself.

"You alright?" Chris asked as he pulled Claire to his side and gave her a squeeze.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's not as scary as I thought—being in this room with people watching and what not."

Forest entered with a grin plastered to his face. "Not yet it's not, but wait until you get on the stand." He looked around and cupped his hand over his mouth, lowering his tone to a whisper. "But I just hope for your sake you don't freeze up there—

"Forest!" Chris growled and tightened his grip around Claire, smashing her cheeks into his side. "Shut the hell up, you'll freak her out even more."

"Cwish." Spittle dripped from Claire's mouth, creating patches of saliva along her brother's uniform as she tried to protest. "Cwish, let go."

"Ok, Ok, Claire, I'm sorry," Forest said while smoothing back his long hair. "You're not gonna freeze…but you might pee your pants-

"Forest…" Chris warned a second time before pushing Claire behind him. "Stop that or I'm gonna—

"Oh my God, he's been killed, he's been killed!" A voice rang out in the court room, causing every head to whip around to it. Chris and Forest left Claire with her lawyer and ran to the female stenographer, who covered her face with her hands and began to sob in them.

"Just calm down, ma'am," Chris said calmly before guiding her away from the side door that Louie had gone through moments before. "Forest, go check it out." Forest gave a nod and drew his gun, disappearing behind the door.

Chris steered the woman into the back of the room, where Claire and the lawyer were standing.

"It's alright," Chris reassured her. "Just…" He ushered her into a chair and took a knee beside her, pulling out a notepad and pen. "Now, tell me everything: what did you see?"

The stenographer's lips trembled when she exhaled. "I-I…I was coming from the restroom…decided to come from the back since it was closer to enter courtroom that way, and saw…" her voice was shaky, "…Mr. B-Banks on the floor." She shrugged. "I didn't think anything of it—figured he passed out or something. 'Mr. Banks, are you OK?' I asked, but he didn't move at all. And then it hit me…where was the bailiff?"

Claire could see Chris' eyebrows knit together upon hearing the question. He looked up when he finished his note and bit his lip. "You didn't see another body?"

"No," the stenographer said with a shake of her head, "just Mr. Banks."

"Yup—guy's dead, alright," Forest said when he came back to the group. He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "The ambulance is on its way. We're just waiting on forensics; I ain't touching that body."

"I should hope not."

Everyone looked up to see Wesker enter the room. He walked over to Chris' side with his hands on his hips. Claire folded her arms and remained behind her brother, trying to keep out of Wesker's line of sight. She knew he could see her hiding from him, but didn't care in the least. Since their last sexual encounter, she ignored all his text messages and even waited in the lobby at the precinct for Chris to take her home to avoid any contact with the man.

"I didn't, captain," Forest began. "I was just joking. I don't want to mess up the whole investigation or anything."

"Wait, how did you know Louie was dead?" Chris asked out of the blue. Claire pressed her lips together, trying to hide her smile. "You weren't even here."

_So, the light bulb is working today, _she thought.

Wesker casually adjusted his glasses, trying to humor Chris by answering his pointless question.

"I had to make a call in the hall, and heard through one of the security guard's radios. Hearing that someone was murdered on this floor, clearly pointed to the obvious: Mr. Banks was hired to do a hit and failed; it only seems fit someone would be after his life as punishment."

Chris narrowed his eyes, trying to mentally picture everything Wesker said, chewing on his lip in the process. He didn't seem entirely convinced, but would rather believe his captain's words than argue over them. The point of the matter was that Louie was dead. No matter which way the situation was looked at, Wesker knew about it and no one had told him. But nobody had to…he _was _sharpest knife, after all.

The lawyer looked back and forth between Wesker and Chris, before looking down and clearing his throat. "I suppose I should take my leave. I'll have to speak with the judge; he'll most likely drop the case since the suspect is…well, no longer with us—that and lack of evidence on their part." He walked over to his table to grab his briefcase. "I'll call you when I find out what the judge says, captain." He shook Wesker's hand and nodded to everyone else. "Officers, Claire." And he left through the double doors.

Claire's gaze lingered on the doors for a moment longer, until she saw Wesker turn his head towards her through her peripheral vision. Immediately, she took out her phone and pretended to go through the messages so she didn't have to look at Wesker.

As she went through her inbox, Claire noticed that she did, indeed, have a new message. It was from Greg:

_'Hey. Sorry I couldn't be there for moral support. Had a group meeting after class. But to make it up to ya, how about we get lunch?'_

Claire couldn't help but smile at Greg's enthusiasm. She shook her head despite herself, and started a reply:

_'Sounds great. I could use some company right now. Meet you at the precinct?'_

The phone buzzed shortly after.

_'Perfect. I'll be there soon.'_

Claire closed her phone and slipped it back into her pocket. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Wesker was looking at Forest, and Claire brought herself out of her own musings to catch what he was saying.

"…and I'm not saying the food is _that_ bad, captain, but would it be too much to ask the lunch lady to make some tastier food in the cafeteria? I mean, I'm not one to complain, but even a piece of cardboard with hot sauce would be more appetizing than yesterday's meatloaf." Forest stuck his tongue out in disgust. "Blah!"

Chris rubbed his stomach. "Don't remind me…" There was a pull on his sleeve and Chris craned his neck around to see Claire releasing it. "What's up?"

Claire kept her eyes on Chris, and forced them to stay there, even when Wesker turned his attention to her. "Can you…me…precinct?" She asked, speaking from the corner of her lips. Her voice was too low to hear.

"What?"

Claire sighed and clenched her jaw. "Precinct," she said a tad louder. "Can you take me?"

Chris' face lit up in realization. "Oh, well, yeah. We're about to split anyways."

"Split where?" Wesker inquired with his usual seriousness.

"…to the precinct, captain. That's where we're going…" Chris looked at Forest. "Right?"

"You're going to stay here and keep an eye on this investigation in case something happens to turn up. Besides, the killer could still be here." The last statement held an eerie chill; it almost sounded like Wesker was trying to purposely scare them, like someone from the Twilight Zone.

"But you're the captain…" Chris protested. "Shouldn't you be here to supervise, or…?" Chris tried to search for something else to say, but nothing came out.

"I believe you're qualified to handle this, Chris. You're not a rookie, you don't need me to hold your hand," Wesker said with a hint of amusement. He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for Chris' remark. Nothing.

Chris rubbed the back of his head and looked down, trying his best not to argue with Wesker. He gave a sideways glance at Forest, who shrugged in response.

"Alright. I guess we'll see you later," Chris said in defeat, as he and Forest started for the side door where Louie's corpse was.

Claire watched her brother until he went through the door with Forest, and sighed, suddenly feeling a chill on her skin. She turned around slowly, and saw Wesker looking down at her—a smirk forming on his lips when she grimaced.

* * *

Wesker and Claire drove in silence on their journey back to the RPD. It didn't take much strength for her to keep her eyes out the window; even when she felt Wesker's eyes on the back of her head—and saw his reflection in the glass—she refused to acknowledge him.

Claire's phone buzzed and she crammed her hand into her tight pockets to fish it out. She flipped it open to see a message from Greg. He was already waiting for her at the precinct and Claire replied that she was almost there. She closed her phone and shoved it back into her pocket, resuming her stare on the outside.

"You sure are talkative today." Wesker's sarcasm filled the silence, causing Claire to visibly flinch. She sat forward and stared ahead.

"Not towards you," she mumbled, her pride still sore from having not resolved their drama.

Wesker stopped at a red light and adjusted himself so his left elbow rested on the window sill, holding the wheel with his left hand; his right slithered over to Claire's left hand. She pulled away slightly.

"What's your problem?" She asked, turning towards him with an irritated expression.

"You're being stubborn," He said firmly. "You haven't replied to my messages and it seems you've taken precautions in avoiding my gaze any way possible—_clearly_ something is wrong." The light turned green and the car accelerated into motion. He looked away from Claire and focused ahead.

"I wonder why, Wesker," Claire said while rubbing her chin in thought. "Let's see—Oh, yeah! You were being a dick. Remember? I'm just doing myself a favor so I don't get burned—_clearly_," She mocked, feeling satisfied with serving Wesker his own medicine.

Wesker shot Claire a disgusted look and violently turned the wheel and drove the car to the side of the street. Claire held on for dear life, tightening her body in fear as the car came to a stop.

Wesker lunged towards Claire and gripped the back of her head, pushing her towards him until they were inches apart. Claire stared into her own fearful expression in the reflection of Wesker's shades. She couldn't see his eyes and that frightened her all the more.

"Claire…" Hot breath created goosebumps on Claire's skin. "...pointing fingers doesn't make you the better person…"

"Better person?" Claire was baffled. "You noticed a problem and I told you it was because of our last meeting—"

"And I told you that's the kind of man—"

"—you are. Yeah, I know that," Claire retorted, managing to slip out of Wesker's grasp. "You really hurt me, Wesker." She shook her head and scoffed. "It's hard to believe that's an oversight for you."

Wesker sat back in his chair and stared forward, clenched jaw muscles easily seen as he contemplated his next move. "It's not an oversight," he began. "I just figured you were mature enough to let it go." He looked at her. "Relying on feelings makes you weak."

"And casting them aside and treating people like garbage makes you an ass." Claire crossed her arms over her chest and looked out her window. "Forgive the understatement…"

Wesker's lip twitched and he let a breath of air escape his mouth before putting the car into drive and continuing to their destination.

* * *

Wesker pulled into a parking spot and shut the car off. Claire gave a sigh of relief and exited the vehicle, leaving Wesker alone at the wheel. He watched Claire with his head tilted to the side as she went inside the building, only to come out shortly after with Greg. Wesker immediately furrowed his brows, anger mixing into his blood, as he watched the pair walk to a Mustang—belonging to the _boy_, Wesker figured. Claire laughed at something Greg said as he opened the car door for her; she slid in and he shut it, casting a glance in Wesker's direction. The STARS captain didn't know if he saw him, but he didn't make any attempt to hide. He didn't play into fear like the average person, and he certainly wasn't afraid of…whatever his name was…

A black Civic pulled up in the spot next to Wesker, hitting the brakes a little too hard, causing the driver to lunge forward slightly. Wesker raised a golden brow as he watched Jill press her lips together, holding in a laugh before shutting the car off. Reaching over into the passenger seat, Jill gathered her loose equipment into her duffle bag and stopped, noticing a can of hairspray. She looked into the rearview and gave her hair a light spray, smoothing out any fly-aways before placing her beret over her head. She put the can into her bag and zipped it shut, and looked up in thought to see if she had forgotten anything else. She jumped slightly when Wesker spoke.

"I'll never understand a woman that carries around cosmetics and hair products everywhere she goes," he said in amusement.

Jill put a hand to her chest. "Captain," she sighed, "you nearly gave me a heart-attack."

"I'm curious, Jill. Is something going to happen to your hair from here to the entrance?"

"Luck favors to prepare, captain." She pulled her bag to her side and dipped her head to exit the car. Wesker did the same. "What are you doing just sitting there anyway?" She asked, slinging the bag strap over her shoulder.

Wesker made his way around and stopped in front of her car. "Enjoying the view," he said curtly, letting his attention linger on the vacant parking spot Greg's Mustang had been in.

Jill raised a brow. "…Of the building?"

Wesker tore his eyes from space and looked at Jill sternly, trying to hold back any anger that threatened to resurface. "Yes, because the architecture just bleeds magnificence," he said dryly. Jill couldn't help but smile as she followed Wesker into the precinct.

* * *

"Let's go! Pick up the pace!" Wesker yelled behind him at the Alpha and Bravo members as they tried to keep up in their sweat covered STARS gym clothes. The Alpha captain led the group through a park trail just below the mountains. Numerous onlookers jogged by the officers on the opposite side of the trail, casting glances and waving before continuing on. Chris and Forest smiled at the young, pretty ones that giggled or batted their eyes at them; Wesker looked over his shoulder and slowed down until he was running at Chris and Forest's pace. He kept his eyes on the two until Chris noticed his Captain wasn't ahead of him. A look to his right nearly caused him to stumble when he saw the pair of black shades burning a hole into his skull. Wesker came between the two and pushed them in front of him; the marksmen exchanged confused expressions. They slowed somewhat and Wesker gave them another push.

"If you two can't stay focused behind me, then maybe you will in front of me," he growled and pushed Forest. "Should anyone pass you more than a second, including me, that's ten push-ups for every time that happens."

"Are you serious, captain?!" Forest cried, pushing himself to stay alongside Chris. "That's not fair!"

"Just shut up, Forest," Chris said through gritted teeth. "It's no use." He tensed his body and propelled himself forward, leaving about a ten foot gap between himself and Forest. The Bravo marksman grunted, using what energy he had left to catch up with Chris.

A smirk formed on Wesker's lips before it quickly disappeared. He shouted over his shoulder, nearly causing Enrico and Joseph to go deaf. "Catch them or we'll do the trail again!"

"Fuuuuck _that_!" Joseph said as he zoomed passed Wesker; Enrico shot a glare at the back of the Alpha captain's head before running ahead; Jill, Kenneth, Barry, Edward, and Richard followed after. The word "asshole" was heard up ahead, almost causing Wesker to smirk; it sounded like Joseph. Wesker made a mental note to punish him for shouting an expletive in public.

Brad was the last to pass Wesker momentarily before matching his Captain's pace, and then falling behind. Wesker slowed his pace according to Brad's and gave him a push.

"Let's go, Vickers!"

"It's hard, sir," Brad wheezed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Wesker placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him along with his pace.

"Stop your whining," Wesker ordered, pushing Brad with vigor. "You'll never get anywhere doing that. You're one of my men and my men don't quit. Now push yourself!" Brad shut his eyes and pushed with his remaining strength. When Brad was able to hold his own, Wesker removed his hand. He purposefully sped up to challenge the pilot into pushing himself, to encourage him into giving his all.

When Wesker and Brad had reached the end of the trail, he saw most of the team on the ground, panting from exhaustion, sweat rolling down their bodies, forming patches on their sweatshirts. They all focused their attention on their leader when he planted his hands on his waist and stood there. Brad collapsed onto the grass and rolled on his back, scrunching his face from the sun as he tried to catch his breath. Wesker eyed him for a moment before scanning the rest of the team until his eyes landed on Joseph.

"Come here, Frost," the Alpha captain instructed, curling his index towards him. Joseph's shoulders slumped and he muttered a "fuck" under his breath before making his way over to Wesker.

"Yes, sir?" Joseph avoided biting his lip as he stared into the dark void that was Wesker's glasses.

Wesker smiled, a smile—to everyone's dismay—that did not harbor any sort of kindness, but, rather, something used to cover up the captain's anger. He used said smile quite often when someone would fail to follow orders or step out of line. It served a much greater purpose, Wesker figured, than outright screaming; the calmness, it seemed, frightened everyone much more.

Wesker removed his glasses and cleaned them with his sweatshirt. He inspected them thoroughly, purposefully enjoying the suspense that lingered in the air; all he needed was a song to hum to.

"Did I hear the word 'asshole' earlier?" He didn't look up from his glasses.

Joseph swallowed the lump in his throat. He could hear a few of the guys snickering in the background. Wesker saw this as a confirmation and continued before Joseph could sum up something.

"Because…" he wiped the last smudge away before putting his glasses back on, "…I know there's a lot of white noise, if you will, out here during this time of day, but…" he put a hand to his chin and looked off in the distance mockingly, "…I could've sworn I heard _you _say that." Wesker looked back at Joesph and shrugged, smile still in place. "Does that ring any bells for you?"

Joseph visibly tensed. The other members were silent, knowing what was to come next.

When Joseph said nothing, Wesker frowned. "I know it was you, Frost, and I'm positive I know who it was meant for, but I won't waste my breath. Now," Wesker backed up, "drop and give me fifty…"

Joseph got down on his knees and assumed the push-up position. Just as he was about to do one, Wesker stopped him.

"Hold on." He brought his smile back. "You look a bit lonely down there." He looked over at the other members and, with the nod of his head, motioned everyone to join Joseph. "I think the rest of the team wants to brave the storm with you." He looked down at Brad and nudged him with his shoe. "You too…"

Surprisingly, everyone held their tongues and nearly crawled over next to Joseph, giving him nasty looks instead. When they got into position, Wesker barked for them to go.

"And count aloud!" Rather than participating as he always did, Wesker sat under a nearby tree with his arms behind his head, watching his team struggle, having already emptied their reserve on running. "Louder." His words were laced with warning.

"Seventeen!" They shouted. "Eighteen…" Wesker drowned them out and closed his eyes, taking in a breath of air. It was peaceful, aside from the groans of pain and displeasure from his team, Wesker found it relaxing to just sit without a hint of stress. He let his mind wander as he'd been doing for most of the day. He thought of William and how determined he was to make another virus in place of the T; how, despite Wesker not really paying heed, William trying to win his approval on his research, showing that it only took a week's worth of coffee and no sleep to accomplish something.

"Twenty-four! Twenty-Five!"

Wesker then thought about Claire and her fast temper—how she always seemed to egg Wesker into an argument, or when she questioned his actions and demanded an explanation. His lips twitched at the corners. He didn't like being questioned, especially when it came to himself; Claire was too curious for her own good. And the _gentleman_ she was with…he was probably boring her to death. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the idea of Greg being worthy of Claire's presence, let alone company in general. Wesker didn't like that Greg was able to make her laugh and look into her eyes without a hint of coldness or anger. He wasn't jealous of Greg by any means, but choosing him over Wesker had rubbed him the wrong way.

"Forty-six! Forty-seven!"

Wesker opened his eyes just as his team finished up their last reps, and stood. He stretched his arms over his head and released a yawn before walking over to his subordinates. Joseph refused to meet his captain's eyes and kept his down. Chris glared up at Wesker, but dismissed him and picked at the grass. Wesker wanted to smile.

For once, there was silence.

* * *

"Damn Wesker…" Forest muttered as he lathered his hair with shampoo, before moving under the stream of water. "…Some bullshit."

"Let it go, Forest," Chris said while rinsing the soap suds off his body.

Forest nudged Joseph next to him and gestured at Chris. "Wow, what happened to this guy?" This caught Chris' attention. "He's freakin' Albert Wesker's kryptonite—the only one who can put up with the captain's shit and toss it right back—and he doesn't use it against him." Forest shook his head and turned back to Chris. "Unbelievable…"

Chris shut the shower off and wiped his face. "You know, Forest, there are plenty times Wesker and I go at it, but that's for things that involve he and I. Trust me, I wanted to scream and shout today, but it wouldn't have done any good." He nodded at Joseph. "Look what happened to Frost."

Forest smiled at Joseph as he turned the knobs. "If you would've only kept your voice down…"

The trio made their way to their lockers, talking about their punishment earlier and how Forest almost ate concrete going down the home stretch.

"…Could've broken my damn teeth." The talking stopped when their eyes landed on Wesker. He was seated on the bench with his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands on either side of his neck; he had all his clothes on but his shirt; water gleamed off his skin. His hair looked as though someone had ruffled it to piss him off, which would've made for a hilarious office prank had Wesker been in his right mind. Well, not that he totally was…something about him just seemed off.

As soon as Chris approached Wesker from behind to open his locker, the Alpha captain snapped out of his thoughts and pulled out a clean white shirt and slipped it on. He pulled out a small bottle of expensive hair gel and squeezed a quarter-sized glob in his palm, and rubbed it against the other one before running it through his hair. He grabbed a black comb and raked it over his scalp numerous times until his hair felt smooth. Lastly, he brought out his usual long sleeve and shut the locker, locking it and leaving without acknowledging the trio.

"Wow," Forest said, "call the newspaper. I think we just witnessed the making of Captain Wesker's perfect 'do."

* * *

Claire tapped her pencil against her Math book, bored out of her mind as she sat in the public library trying to study. It had only been three hours, but that was enough to blow a few circuits in her brain. She closed the book and sat back in the wooden chair, absentmindedly scanning the books on the shelf across from her. Her lunch with Greg had gone better than expected, much to her surprise. The only part of their conversation that made her feel uncomfortable was when Greg mentioned Wesker.

_"So what was up with that Wesker guy?" Greg asked as he squirted ketchup over his fries._

_ Claire took a drink of her soda and gave a shrug. "He's a bit of a smarty."_

_ "A bit? The guy wanted to fight me."_

_ Claire roller her eyes. "No he didn't. He's just being protective. My brother trusts him, I trust him…" Claire might've said the last part too fast. "But that's how he is. He's very blunt and if you can't dish it out, he jumps all over you." Greg scoffed and put a few fries into his mouth. "He's actually a very interesting person to talk to—you know, aside from the attitude…"_

_ "How? The guy can't even be around a lot of people without hiding in a corner. He's anti-social."_

_ Claire narrowed her eyes. "Nah…he's just different…it makes him all the more attractive." Realizing her slip, Claire added, "You know, for women that like guys who are like that." She cleared her throat in embarrassment and gulped down her drink._

Claire sighed. She had dodged a bullet there. Greg was sharp, but she didn't think he caught on; Claire was a pretty decent liar, not that she took pride in it, but it helped her get out a trouble more than once.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she retrieved it without hesitation, thinking it was Greg. That was, until the name 'Unknown' came up on her screen—a perfect nickname for Wesker. She figured that no matter what she found out about the man (if given the chance) there would always be something unknown about him, something that Claire would probably never discover in her life.

Claire rolled her eyes but decided to humor Wesker and read the message.

_'I need to speak with you. Chris will be on patrol tonight. I should be at the precinct until ten. Please reply to confirm.'_

A part of Claire wanted to laugh at Wesker's pathetic attempt to speak with her, but all differences aside, the fact that he was at least _trying _to speak to her and sort things out counted for something—it was a rare occurrence on its own. She hit the reply button.

_'I'll be there.'_

* * *

Claire's hand hovered over the knob of the Alpha team's office door. She prayed that Wesker wouldn't be inside so that she could leave, but knowing the good old captain, he stayed true to his word. She opened the door and walked in, squeaking with every step she took as she made her way towards Chris' desk.

"You came."

Claire whirled around to see Wesker leaning against his desk with his arms folded, as if expecting Claire at that _exact _moment. She tilted her head back slightly.

"I said I would." She considered him for a moment. He didn't seem angry or sad, not even the slightest trace of worry traced his features. Even the way he was seated—even though his arms were crossed—he looked comfortable. She made her way to his office.

"So what's up?" Claire asked, stopping and leaning against the door frame. Wesker unfolded his arms and clasped them in front of him, looking as though he didn't know where to begin.

"What you said earlier today," He began, "stuck with me the entire day. Do you know that?"

"How could I, Wesker?" Claire replied quickly.

He slowly removed his shades and folded them. "It was more of a rhetorical question…" He placed the shades on the desk and clasped his hands again, keeping his eyes on the ground. "Nevertheless…I want you to know that it was not my intention to hurt you in any way, nor did I wish to make you feel used and unappreciated." He looked up at Claire. "Forgive me."

Claire stared into Wesker's empty blue eyes, not really sure what to make of the situation. Wesker didn't say the word 'sorry' exactly, but Claire guessed it was the closest thing to that word she would get out of him.

"As long as you're sincere about it, Wesker…I forgive you." At those last words, Wesker's shoulders dipped slightly.

"Thank you." He said with a nod. Just as he was about to push himself off the desk, Claire stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. His cologne filled her nostrils and she found herself nuzzling his neck and stopping just below his earlobe.

"You smell nice," she muffled, playing with the small, golden locks at the base of his neck. Wesker slowly brought one arm around Claire, followed by the other one. He squeezed, and inclined his head so it touched Claire's. After a moment, he realized that he allowed himself to relax too much, and pulled back, taking Claire by the arms and gently pushing her away.

"So…that boy that I insulted…"

"_Greg_?" Claire offered.

"He's your—"

"Oh no. He's just a friend, I guess.

"You guess?" Wesker stared at Claire. "So you don't know?"

"He's just a friend and that's it, Wesker. Nothing more." She shook her head. "Is this an interrogation session or what?"

Wesker grabbed his glasses from the desk and slipped them on. "If that tickles your fancy…"

"You mean floats your boat?"

"What have you…" he said with a shrug. "Between you and me, I'd like to keep a third wheel out of the picture."

"So you don't want Greg around," Claire said in understanding.

"If this Greg is only a friend to you, then he'll have no problem meeting you at another location. Your time here is for me and me alone, Claire. I should hope this isn't breaking news for you." He gave a smirk that caused Claire to roll her eyes.

"Alright, Wesker. If it will help you sleep at night…"

"Good." Wesker pulled Claire in for a kiss, strawberry lip glossed lips meeting his own. He pulled back and smoothed his tongue over his lips. He raised a brow. "How curious…"

* * *

**Finally! This chapter pissed me off lol It took me about two weeks to figure out how I was going to write it, and even now, I'm not so sure it came out right lol But at least it's something. I apologize for the very late update: I've been dealing with a lot of stress, what with revising my script, dealing with A-Holes at work, and family at home -_- But I'm doing better, so forgive me for not updating sooner. This chapter is pretty long, so hopefully it makes up for something.**

** As far as the story goes, there are some questions to be answered: who killed Louie? Why was Wesker acting so different? Why was Wesker so determined to get Claire's attention? And Greg? What will be in store for him? There are more questions I probably forgot to address, but you guys are sharp, so I'm sure you'll figure it out. PM me and/or review to let me know what you think. Thanks again!—Lil V.**


	7. Evidence

**Hey peeps! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favored or followed as of late XD It's appreciated! :D Plenty of Wesker/Birkin in here:D Which reminds me, I might have something in mind concerning those two ;D This chapter is pretty long, so…yeah. Anyways, on with the story :D**

**Evidence**

"Are you expecting a call or something, Al?" William asked as he turned the coarse focus knob, before rotating the turret and focusing once more. He took a glance at Wesker who had just slid his phone back into his pocket for the umpteenth time. The STARS captain adjusted his glasses with a scoff before returning to his notebook.

"Yes—from Spencer actually."

_Crack._

The slide containing a blood sample spidered; small fragments of glass could be heard in the dead silence as they hit the counter.

William looked up in horror. "What?! Why?!"

Wesker glanced at the clock on the wall and tilted his head to the side. "Well, he was supposed to let me know what time he wanted me to kill you, but…"

William turned slowly, pressing his back against the lab table, grasping it until his knuckles became white. "Y-You…you're joking, Al. Right? I mean…"

Wesker's brows met together and he looked back at his friend, giving a nonchalant shrug. "I wish I was, William…" Wesker reached into his lab coat pocket and fished around before quickly pulling his hand out again. William gasped and closed his eyes, throwing his arms over his head as though to protect himself. When no shots were heard, the younger scientist cracked his eyes open and slowly lowered his arms. His expression quickly changed to anger upon seeing Wesker holding his forefinger and thumb out so it resembled a gun. Wesker's trademark smirk was present when he bent his thumb, indicating a fired shot.

"You're dead." Wesker chuckled as he made his way over to William, giving him a small pat on the shoulder.

"And you're _not _funny, Al," William said with a hand to his chest as he tried shrugging Wesker off. "My God, I feel sorry for anyone who finds your humor entertaining, 'cause I sure as hell don't." William went back to the microscope and sighed upon seeing the broken slide. He side-stepped to a drawer and pulled out a box of latex gloves. He grabbed a pair and slipped them on.

"Shouldn't you have put those on at the beginning of the experiment?"

William gave a sigh. "Gee, _doctor, _what would I do without you?" He put the last glove on with a snap and carefully picked up the slide remains to examine them. "Wasted." He shook his head and put the remains in a Biohazard bin along with his gloves.

"Quit your whining," Wesker said dryly as he flipped through this notebook. "I've been hearing that quite a lot lately." He took a pen from his breast pocket and wrote:

_3:21 AM. Phase 1 of G-Virus Experiment attempt 3. Result…_

"You know, Al, maybe if you'd been paying attention instead of wandering off in La-La Land we might actually get some work done…"

_Failure. Slide containing sample was contaminated. The reaction to blood cells—unknown._

Wesker slid the pen into the crease of the book and closed it, before gliding a hand through his hair. "Breaking the slide was your own doing, William. And If I do recall," he gestured to his notes, "the last few attempts were failures because of _you_."

William rolled his eyes as he put another set of gloves on. "Ah, yes, blame the only scientist in here dedicated to getting something done. That's rich, Al." A grin creeped on his lips. "It's probably because you're a cop now. I guess you like being in the public eye instead of hiding out in a lab."

Wesker watched as William gave a few sprays of rubbing alcohol on the table and wiped away any remaining germs, before taking out a new slide and pipette and placing them on the table.

"If you're referring to that mediocre article about the hostage situation—"

"Yeah, I am." The younger scientist called over his shoulder as he made his way to the freezer, pulling out a tube of blood and sample of G, and walking back. "I even cut out the picture with you and your cop buddies." He chuckled and nodded to the tacked board near the centrifuge machine. "I always loved a man in uniform," William jabbed before squeezing a drop of blood on the slide's center. He threw the pipette in the sink and reached for a sterile one.

"For your sake, I think you should refrain from saying that out loud. You might prove people's assumptions to be true." Wesker smirked when he saw William look up from the slide.

"Oh, now he attempts another comedy act," William retorted before adding a small drop of G onto the blood, and carefully placing a cover slip over the slide. He lowered the stage and placed the slide between the clips. "Did you hear that, Mr. Microscope? Albert Wesker's trying to be funny again." He raised the stage and peered into the eyepiece. "_Trying._" He squinted. "Gah, I can't see a damn thing."

Wesker moved closer to William and opened his notebook. "You have the turret set on the highest magnification—quite an embarrassment for someone who has been a lab rat for most of his life." He shook his head and grabbed his pen, writing down a heading for the next attempt. "No wonder you can't see anything."

William gave Wesker a baffled look and craned his neck around to see his mistake. He bit his lip and turned the turret to the lowest magnification. "Smart ass," he mumbled and turned the knobs to focus. "Ah…there you are…thought you could hide from me."

Once William was able to see the virus clearly, he changed to a higher magnification and smiled. "The virus is stable—not really attacking the blood cells yet…" The slight scraping of Wesker's pen against the paper filled the silent void when William would pause in his observation. "No…these little guys are just swimming around. Looks like a pool party…the virus is about to crash it."

"Are you quite through?" Wesker said with almost a sneer, pausing in his writing to look over his friend. "It sounds like your trying to put some Highschool scenario together, and very poorly, I might add." Wesker shook his head and glanced at the clock. "It's nearly four. Perhaps we should speed this up?"

William smiled, fighting the urge to look at Wesker; he knew he'd laugh if he saw the evil scowl on his friend's face. He decided to continue studying the virus. "G is still—oh, wait, wait! It's moving…there it goes—got 'em." He looked up from the microscope and motioned for Wesker to look.

The STARS captain gave a small grunt in response, not having high expectations as he took William's place and looked into the eyepiece. A smudge of black—Wesker assumed was the G-Virus—consumed nearby blood cells until the all the red turned into a mass of darkness. It began to grow until it consumed the entire slide, causing the glass to crack. Wesker stepped back and waited until the black mass stopped moving before slipping on a pair of gloves and examining the slide.

"Damn," William cursed as he picked up his alcohol bottle and sprayed the infected area. "Another failure."

"Hm. It's still too powerful." Wesker placed the infected slide into the bin along with his gloves. "We'll have to use a smaller dosage." He nodded to the bin. "If that were inside a live host, it would cause immediate death. However, if we can administer the correct dose, perhaps it would minimize the chance of mutation."

"Ah, but wouldn't we need a proper host for that? This blood was obviously from an individual whose DNA couldn't house the virus, or bond with it." William turned on the tap and dispensed some soap into his hands until they were lathered, and rinsed them under the water. He shut off the tap and tore a paper towel from the rack. "You think we should look for worthy prospects?" William's last words made Wesker smirk.

The older blond shook his head. "Why not just use my blood?" Anyone else in the world wouldn't understand Wesker's dry humor, but William put up with it enough to tell when he was joking.

"You know, I'm beginning to think these early hours bring out your humanity much more. I think we should do this often—"

"I think we shouldn't."

"—since you're usually so grim. A rock has more personality than you, Al. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news," William said with a shrug and tossed the crumbled paper towel in the trash, before grabbing the Biohazard bin. "After I put this in the incinerator, I'll be heading out."

"As will I. I have work that needs to be done at the office."

"On a Saturday, Al? Shouldn't you go home and snuggle up in your bed?" William's words dripped with sarcasm.

Wesker removed his glasses and massaged his eyelids, shrugging off the 'snuggling' comment. He refused to partake in his friend's weak pokes. "Paperwork is unrelenting," he groaned as he held his hands over his eyes.

"Don't you just _love_ paperwork? It's a miracle I didn't strangle you with all the paperwork we had to do in this place. Although I have to wonder how many trees lost their lives because of us."

Wesker quirked a brow and narrowed his eyes at William. "Seeing as I did most of your paperwork, you should consider yourself lucky I didn't force feed it to you." He scoffed. "You can't write a worth of damn anyhow." The Alpha captain grabbed his notebook and locked it in a side-table drawer at his desk, before giving—what he called a wave by merely lifting his hand, as though shooing something away—to William.

"I'll keep in touch," Wesker added as he slipped on his glasses, not waiting to hear a response as he left the lab.

* * *

"Now come at me just like we practiced, and don't hold back." Chris braced himself on the sturdy mat in the RPD gym, sweat glazing his forehead and bare arms, soaking through his white muscle shirt, as Claire charged for him.

A hook and a miss from the younger Redfield as she forced Chris to back up, not landing a single hit.

"Stop, Claire." Chris grabbed ahold of his sister's wrists and held her at arm's length. "You can't just throw out punches; you'll tire out way before the other person gets a hit in." Chris put his dukes up. "You have to wait until you see an opportunity. Once it presents itself you go for it, because if you wait too long your opponent will catch on. Put up your fists like this." Claire did so. "Now use your lead foot to inch your way to me. Yeah-keep your head protected…like that, good."

Chris backed up just as Claire came forward. He could see the frustration in his sister's face and stopped. "Ok, now take a jab. You want to see how long your reach is. Don't put all your might into it." Claire threw a jab and missed Chris' cheek, realizing her mistake when he grabbed her attacking arm and twisted it, before trapping her legs and throwing her to the floor. Chris pinned her down, holding his sister's arm behind her back.

"You never want to get in this position, Claire. Avoid leaving your arm out too long, or you'll leave yourself vulnerable."

Claire grunted into the mat, grimacing as her sweat nearly glued her to it. "Well noted. Now can you please…?"

Chris released Claire's arm and gave her a hand up, before wiping his forehead. "I think that's enough for today, huh?" He rubbed a knuckle into Claire's head and laughed.

"You turd!" Claire's fist instinctively flew and collided with Chris' lip, causing him to take a few steps back. His look was more surprised than anything, but Claire felt immediate regret. She put her hands over her mouth.

"I'm sorry! Oh man…Chris, I'm sorry!" She removed Chris' hand from his mouth and saw the reddened area she'd managed to produce. "Damn, I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"

Chris waved it off. "Ah, no need to be sorry. It's not like you meant it. Besides, this little tap," he pursed his lips, "had no effect on me. Just caught me off guard, you know?" Claire gave a nod, keeping her eyes locked on the injury and then into her brother's eyes.

He made a fist and tapped it on her cheek playfully with a smile. "Now we're even."

"Ah, Lord and Lady Redfield," Forest yelled into the silent gym and bowed mockingly, Joseph at his side, "have we intruded on your workout session?!" The two erupted into laughter as they neared the Redfield siblings.

Chris crossed his arms. "Wow, you guys are up early. What time is it, noon?"

"C'mon, Chris, no hard feelings," Joseph replied and put an arm around Claire. "How's it going, Claire? Big bro working you too hard?"

Claire smiled, looking down to hide her embarrassment. She was thankful her matted bangs hid the color of her cheeks. "No, not really…just showing me some techniques—which I horribly failed at, sadly."

"Ah, you're just starting out," Forest said as he pulled out some boxing wraps. He tossed a pair to Joseph. "Plus, Chris has more experience. And he's obsessed, so…" He winked in Claire's direction and then turned to Chris.

Joseph moved away from Claire and unrolled his wraps. "Yeah, you're pretty obsessed, man. You spend more time in the locker room getting ready than anyone on the squad, probably more than anyone on the force."

Chris put his hands up in defense. "Alright, alright. Clearly it's still too early for you both, so we'll let you wrestle each other naked or whatever you're gonna do." He pushed Claire along until they reached the exit.

It only took two seconds for Forest to catch on. "Wait, what?!"

* * *

Wesker rubbed his eyes until they turned red with irritation. They screamed "burning" and "dry," but the captain couldn't help how sensitive they were. He slipped his glasses over his nose and poured himself a cup of steaming, black coffee to the brim, eager to have his morning dose of bitter caffeine before starting his paperwork. Lifting the mug to his lips, Wesker bravely took a sip of the black lava and drank it fast; the heat of the coffee slightly scalded the tip of his tongue, and quickly numbed the sensitive walls in his mouth. A large drink, this time, until he nearly finished the cup, in which he poured another until full and walked out of the break room.

Just as Wesker stepped into the hallway, someone collided with him on his right, spilling the coffee over his white shirt and wrist. Wesker instinctively released the mug and stepped back to wipe his hand on his pants. The ceramic mug fell and crashed onto the floor, sending pieces in all directions; coffee splattered Wesker's boots and left the tile looking like a crime scene.

Wesker looked up at the offender with furrowed brows, clenching his jaw tighter when he saw Chris' uneasy smile. "You'd better have a good explanation, Chris," he said while gritting his teeth, "because if you don't, I'll—"

Wesker stopped himself when he saw Claire come out from behind Chris to stand by his side. She rubbed the back of her head, chewing on her lip at the mess before her, before looking up at Wesker.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Captain." Chris left Claire and went into the break room, returning with a roll of paper towels. He tore a few sheets off and started patting down Wesker's chest, blotching the coffee stains. Wesker let his eyes linger on Claire a bit longer before pushing Chris away.

"Leave it. Just get a mop and broom."

"Right. Wait here, Claire." Chris disappeared down another hallway to the Janitor's closet. The incident itself was pretty embarrassing, not to mention the fact that Wesker was the one Chris ran into. Luckily, there weren't any cops around to see; Claire would've died.

_It had to be him, huh, Chris? It just had to…_

"We're really sorry, Wesker."

Wesker glanced Claire's way and then focused on the coffee spots on his shirt. "It was an accident," he said plainly. He grazed over the semi-dry spots. "It's just a shirt." He examined his hand; the slight burn from the coffee had somewhat faded. "Were you and Chris training?"

Claire snapped to attention. "I-yeah, we were. He was just showing me how to jab and defend myself…didn't turn out so well." Claire shrugged sheepishly.

"It's probably because he's not a very good teacher. He's got quite a set of skills, I'll give him that, but he's a little…sloppy when it comes to martial arts." Wesker gave a smirk and put his hands in his pockets. "He can do well against you, obviously, but I would easily dispatch him before he set foot on the mat."

"Sounds like a challenge, captain," Chris said with a broom, dustpan, and mop in tow. "After I clean this up, maybe we can settle this?" Chris threatened Wesker with his eyes in vain; his captain gave an arrogant smirk back. "C'mon, we haven't sparred for a while. It would be fun."

Wesker chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nothing would satisfy me more than to prove you wrong, Chris, but I have much more important matters to take care of."

Chris shrugged as he swept the remaining pieces up into the pan. "Suit yourself." Wesker nodded to Claire and started for the stairs. Just before Wesker was out of earshot, Chris added, "All you had to say was you were afraid."

Claire gave a sigh as Wesker paused in his step. His shoulders moved up and down slightly, followed by the deep sound of Wesker's laugh—something that was new even for Chris. Wesker seldom laughed; he chuckled on occasions and even smiled, but never actually laughed. That was one for the books.

Wesker turned around with a crooked smile on his face, tilting his head back slightly to regard Chris. "You don't know what you're saying, Chris. You're so blinded by your arrogance …but, if you're so sure of yourself, I'll humor you."

Chris propped the mop against the wall and clenched a fist in excitement. "That's more like it."

"Chris, think about what you're doing please?" Claire reasoned as she stepped in front of her brother. "What if he puts you in the hospital or something? What the hell am I supposed to do _then_?"

Chris put his hands on her shoulders. "Just relax, Claire. I know what I'm doing. Besides, he can't afford to lose his best man." He nodded for Claire to follow. "C'mon. You can be my cheerleader."

* * *

"Shit, Frost, that was a cheap shot," Forest growled, picking himself up. Joseph put his fists down and allowed himself to fall back onto the ropes of the boxing ring.

"It was fair, so stop your whining," Joseph replied while removing his gloves. He let them drop and reached for his Gatorade. He gave an 'ahh' sound after taking a gulp. "Nothing like a cold drink to—

"Alright, so what are the rules, Wesker?" Chris' voice bounced off the gym walls as he entered with Wesker, Claire bringing up the rear.

"Anything goes—just no cheap shots. I don't think I have to explain what that means." Wesker removed his glasses and handed them to Claire. "If you don't mind…" he added with a hint of a smile which faded quickly as Wesker looked over his shoulder, and glared at Forest and Joseph. The two STARS members in the ring looked at each other and back at Wesker.

"H-How's it going, captain?" Joseph asked as he came forward and put his weight on the ropes. "Didn't think I'd see you here..." He mumbled his last words, "…on a Saturday."

"Don't you two ever go home?" Was Wesker's remark, though not saying it as cold as he would've liked. He turned to face them and just when he was going to add something, Chris interrupted.

"He's just kidding, guys."

Wesker gave Chris a sour look and crossed his arms. Deciding to ignore his captain, he continued. "We were just about to spar. Care to watch?"

"What?! No way!" Forest moved through the ring ropes and joined the trio by the mat. Joseph followed shortly after.

"You two? This is gonna be sweet. What did you guys wager?" Joseph asked, looking between his captain and friend. Chris and Wesker exchanged glances. "You did bet something, right?"

"Uh…no-I mean, yeah. If I win, Wesker has to take Claire and I out for dinner—anywhere we wanna go. _And-_and, we—meaning the STARS members—don't have to do conditioning next week."

"Oooh, good one," Forest said, giving Chris a high-five.

"Is that so?" Wesker's eyes flickered to the Claire, searching her face and flicking back to Chris. "Fine. If _I _win, you'll have to do conditioning—not once a day like you're used to—but three times each day next week."

"Fuck me…" Forest breathed and ran a hand down his face. "That's steep, Chris. Your ass better win."

"_And_…" A smiled creeped up. "I'll pay for dinner…with Claire to accompanying me." He raised a brow off of Chris' confused face. "Meaning, you can't come."

"Wow, ha-ha!" Joseph said sarcastically and slapped Chris on the arm. "Damn…he has us by the balls…and a dinner date with your _sister_."

"It's not a date," Claire piped up and shank in her shoulders when all eyes were on her. She looked at Wesker and then Chris.

"And it never will be," Chris said with a hardened gaze and removed his muscle shirt. "Let's get this over with. I'm starting to get hungry. Have your wallet out, captain, because I'm in the mood for steak and lobster."

Forest leaned over and whispered into Joseph's ear. "I think this would be more exciting if we had an audience. Call the phone upstairs and see who's in the office."

"I'm on it." Joseph pulled his phone out and dialed Jill's number. A few rings went by before Jill answered on the other end. "Jill! I don't have time to explain. Grab whoever's up there and come down here. Captain Wesker and Chris are gonna throw it down in the gym…" Joseph sighed. "Well hurry up!" He ended the call.

"Good," Wesker began, "the more the merrier, eh, Chris?" He grasped the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head, eyes never leaving Chris as he casted it aside.

Claire wasn't sure if anyone could see her damn jaw hit the floor, but she didn't care. No matter how many times she had seen Wesker's body it would never get old. Corded muscle against tight skin, veins trailing from his shoulders downwards, not an inch of fat in sight…Claire wiped her mouth absentmindedly.

Jill arrived with Brad, Richard, and Edward, with expressions ranging from excited to worry—the latter belonging to Brad.

Jill made her way over to Claire and greeted her, planting her hands on her hips while filling Wesker up. "Wow, Wesker, who would've thought you'd have all that under you clothes." She gave Claire a nudge with her elbow. "Don't you agree?"

Claire hesitated when Wesker's eyes met hers, and she couldn't help but blush. There was that look again—soft and sincere, empty of all coldness. It was a look meant only for Claire.

The younger Redfield winced when a fist collided with Wesker's jaw; ripples glided across his skin, reaching around his cheeks. His demeanor quickly changed to anger; furrowed brows, a clenched jaw opposing the knuckles against his teeth. Wesker stepped back slightly and readied for his own attack, ignoring the throbbing pain on the right side of his face.

Chris went in for a right cross to catch his captain's left cheek, but Wesker countered it by sliding his arm just below Chris' attacking arm—causing it to fly over Wesker's shoulder—hitting him right in the nose. Chris howled in pain as blood dripped down and through his fingers when he placed them over his nostrils.

"Fuckin' cheap shot, Wesker!" Chris yelled. A groan followed as he regained his composure and wiped the dirty blood on his sweats.

"I warned you before we started. Your failure to comprehend never ceases to amaze me." Wesker went in for the charge—faster than Chris had anticipated—and struck his jaw with an uppercut, sending a whiplash up Chris' neck. Groans and winces from the audience filled the air as the marksman stumbled back, dazed and lightheaded. He straightened his posture just in time to dodge another blow, and threw a hook into Wesker's ribs. The STARS captain growled and grabbed Chris by the arm, trapping his legs with his own, and dragging him down on the mat. Wesker took the dominant position and locked his arm around Chris' neck, pressing his back against the blonde's chest.

"Give it up, Chris; I have the upper hand here." Wesker's voice was strained as he pulled his arm back to keep Chris below him.

"It's…It's not…over," Chris seethed, blinded by anger as his adrenaline coursed through him. With his free arm, Chris swung his fist behind him in hopes of nail a hit on Wesker's head. He managed to graze his forehead and continued his assault, until Wesker buried his head in the crook of Chris' neck, not once losing his tight hold on his subordinate.

"Chris!" Claire shouted. "You're gonna hurt him, Wesker. Please, stop it!"

"I-I got this, Claire. Stay out of it!" Chris' voice cracked like he hadn't had anything to drink in days. He clawed at Wesker's arm and managed to break the skin in numerous places; a hiss passed through his captain's lips as cold air streaked against Chris' hot skin.

Chris rolled suddenly and smashed Wesker beneath him, scrambling to get on top and pin his superior down with all his might. They looked at each other, grunts and trembling bodies being their only responses. Wesker pushed against Chris' arms, attempting to lift him high enough to deliver a kick to the stomach; his strength—though admirable and abundant—was slowly depleting. The younger man on top pressed down on his captain, bruising his shoulders near the joint, sending a wave of pain through him.

"Get him, Chris!" Forest shouted, raising his fist in the air. "No mercy! Tell him, Chicken!" Brad looked at Forest uncomfortably and then to the pair at a standstill on the floor. From where he was standing, he could see all the anger pour out on Wesker's face; he could only assume the same went for Chris, since his back was facing towards Brad. He decided to remain quiet.

"Let's end this, Chris," Wesker said. "You're only embarrassing yourself."

Chris pressed much harder into Wesker's shoulders. "Grr-shut up, Wesker."

"The truth hurts doesn't it?"

Chris pulled an arm back and punched Wesker across the face, and with his now free arm, Wesker grabbed ahold of Chris', sliding his way out underneath his subordinate and pinning back his arm.

"No," Chris breathed into the mat, ironically the same position he had told Claire never to get into. "Shit." Wesker had him; Chris knew he had him. He tried in vain to push himself back to shake Wesker off of him, but it was no use. Wesker was the stronger one, always had been, always will be. This inevitability hurt Chris' pride more than any physical pain inflicted on him ever could.

"Game over," Wesker drawled and released Chris' arm, before getting to his feet and scooping up his coffee stained shirt. He wiped his face down, wincing when he pressed a little too hard over the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," Joseph sighed and threw his bandana down. Forest stayed quiet and kept his eyes on the ground.

Chris gave a sigh (or, rather, an irritated grunt) and stood abruptly as if all his energy had suddenly returned. He didn't bother looking at anyone except Wesker. The two stared each other down until Chris offered his hand.

"Congratulations, Wesker."

Wesker stared at the extended hand with a blank expression, gripping it firmly in his own and shaking. "The same to you, Chris," Wesker released Chris' hand.

"Why? I didn't win…"

"Sometimes it's now about winning. Persistence is a valuable weapon, Chris. Rarely can it be stopped."

Chris scoffed. "_You _stopped me."

"But _you_ didn't stop." There was a pause before Wesker continued. "I'm not, by any means, praising you. However, I feel inclined to tell you that your persistence is admirable." Wesker gave a shrug and wiped the sweat around his neck with his shirt. "Take it with a grain of salt."

Chris looked away and rubbed the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah…thanks I guess." He sighed and locked gazes once more. "So…are you gonna—I don't know—make a schedule for us or something? You know, for our conditioning?"

Wesker folded his arms as though bracing himself for an attack. "That depends…if I can take Claire to the dinner I promised her, then you or the other members won't have conditioning at all next week."

"No," Chris said quickly. "Sorry, but she's not allowed to date, especially with—"

"Who said it was a date?" Wesker retorted, voice rising. "And just what do you mean by 'especially with'? To whom are you referring?"

"The janitor—who do you think, Wesker?"

Wesker chuckled and gave a nod. "Oh, I see. You want to go there? Very well, let's put things into perspective, shall we? You can have your way with women whenever you deem it necessary to satisfy your needs—whatever those may be—but your sister can't have a nice dinner with a gentleman who's willing to treat her?" Wesker chuckled again, sending Chris' anger boiling over. He could see his face turning red, teeth grinding against each other.

"You're. My. Boss."

"So adding you back into the equation makes a difference?"

"Just drop it." Chris turned away and grabbed his shirt from the floor. "It's not gonna happen." He pulled Claire by the arm and dragged her behind him. Just as Claire passed Wesker, she pressed his glasses into his palm, her fingers grazing across his own; she gave him an apologetic look, tears forming in her eyes before looking away and leaving the gym.

* * *

Wesker swiped his I.D. card and entered the lab when he was allowed access, and slammed his fist onto a lab station table. A grunt escaped his mouth with each pant, anger filling his veins as he stood there and replayed the events that occurred earlier in his head. Chris. What the hell had gotten into him? Wesker knew Chris was very protective, especially when it came to his sister's well-being, but she's an adult—an adult who can make decisions and live with the outcome on her own. But no…apparently that applies to everyone else but Claire.

"Darn you, Chris," Wesker whispered into what he thought was an empty room, until William spoke up.

"Rough day?" He asked, not looking up from his microscope. He turned the nobs and paused, grabbing a pen to write down his observations in a notebook, before glancing at Wesker. "What happened this time?"

"Chris Redfield."

"Your cop buddy?" William asked curiously. "I thought you two got along?"

Wesker slipped on his lab coat and made his way over to William's side. He fixed his collar so that it perfectly creased around his neck. "That depends on what you mean by getting along. Chris is quite the stubborn one. Not to mention his habit of trying to prove me wrong or catching me off guard…" Wesker eyed the microscope and William moved aside to allow his partner a look. "…Or the fact that he's over-protective of his sister." The last mumbled part caught William's interest.

"He has a sister?"

"Hm." Wesker pulled back from the microscope and reached for the notes. He licked the tip of his middle finger and flipped through the pages. "I see you've been busy."

"Hold on, Al, don't change the subject. What's this about his sister?"

"Remember all those times you inquired about something personal and I told you to stay out of it or I'd make you regret it? This is one of those times." Wesker stopped on a blank page and flattened the page to keep it still.

"Well that's just rude. I've never held anything back from _you_."

Wesker removed his glasses and placed them on the counter. "No, not informing me about your marriage to Annette until the next day _certainly _wasn't something I needed to know."

"No, Al," William said with a pointed finger. "Don't turn this on me. I had my reasons for doing that, but this is totally different. I asked you a simple question and you do this merry-go-'round thing to make it look like I'm the bad guy."

Wesker smirked and shook his head, readying himself to write something on the page, but ended up staring at it instead. "You wouldn't understand."

"You don't know that." William paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Is she a threat?"

"In some ways, yes."

"Then take care of her."

"I wish I could…" Wesker placed his glasses back over his nose and sighed. He stared at the clock absentmindedly until something clicked in his mind. He brought his attention back to the notes, and turned back one page.

_3:49 PM Phase 1 of G-Virus Experiment attempt 34. Virus was stable enough to take over blood cells without breaking the slide. Approximately 20 minutes later, the cells were reanimated and became fully functional; five minutes after, the cells died for the second time. Experimentation in a live host is possible with compatible DNA. However, due to the low probability of finding a suitable host with acceptable DNA…_

Wesker stopped reading and focused on the clock in thought. 10:23 PM it read. "I think it's time we try a different approach on this experiment, William."

"I'm listening."

"I want you to take draw my blood and use that with the next G sample experiment."

"Al, you can't be serious. I-I don't know if I—

"You'll do it," Wesker snapped and whipped his head around. "It's not like you're going to directly inject the virus into me. It has to be stabilized first. Then we'll move on from there."

"Are you sure you…" William trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what more to say.

"Of course. I'm surprised you're not as enthusiastic about this as I am." Wesker smirked. "By the way, I'll need a few samples of the T-Virus."

William began sterilizing his work station with the alcohol. "Ah, now it's _your _needs we're worried about—

"You presented your curiosity about my personal reason not too long ago and now that I'm trying to let you in on it—

"Fine! _Fine. _We'll do it your way, Al. Since you're so persistent…"

Wesker's lip curled in disgust. "I _hate_ that word."

* * *

**This chapter was sorta filler/storyline lol I had a real hard time coming up with the next "phase" of the story, so forgive the errors if you find any. I'm assuming you guys know more or less what's coming up. I haven't decided if I'm doing timeline stuff (i.e. the T outbreak in the mansion), but I just might. Also, there will be some more stuff, EVIL stuff hahahaha *cough* sorry. Oh, and Chris hasn't found out about Claire and Wesker; I know it seemed like he got the idea, but he hasn't yet. I have something special planned for that revelation ;) But I have now set the stage for more craziness to come :D Reviews are appreciated, but not required; however, your thoughts and opinions mean tons to me :D Until next time—Lil V.**


	8. Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Hey everyone! Woo-hoo! I gotta say I'm pretty happy with the reviews, favs, and follows :D Let me tell you, when that happens I feel much more motivated to update :P Forgive me for not updating sooner: I couldn't get this chapter in my crosshairs, so it took a while to get it straight. Again, I apologize for not updating sooner; having read numerous updates from other writers, I felt that I had to try harder for my readers. Hope you enjoy! Italics are for flashbacks or thoughts. ;)**

**Hook, Line, and Sinker**

_"You have to see things from my point of view, too, Claire. He's much older than you, first of all," Chris counted on one hand_, _"He's my boss, and would only cause more unwanted friction between us. I respect him as an officer, a leader, and a mentor, but this is just something I can't let happen. Please, try to understand, Claire."_

_ Claire folded her arms with a huff, and stubbornly turned away from Chris. "That's stupid. I'm an adult, Chris." She turned to him. "When will you get that? I have to grow up too, you know?"_

_ "There are plenty of guys your age—"_

_ "Stop saying that!" Claire yelled. "I'm not looking to date anyone!"_

_ "Then what the hell are you so upset about?!"_

_ "Wesker only wanted to treat me to dinner, Chris, that's it! I mean, c'mon, it was part of the stupid bet that you two agreed on. I didn't hear you ask him to change his terms." Claire's features lightened. "Yeah…you didn't even stop him from saying that did you?" She scoffed. "All you said was it wasn't going to happen…doesn't mean it won't."_

_ "And it doesn't mean it will. He's a complicated guy, Claire. You don't know him like I do."_

_ "He has always been nice to me, Chris. It's not like he insinuates anything; we just talk about different—_

_ "If he fuckin' lays a finger on you…"_

_ Chris left it open and Claire froze, swallowing hard, but before she could blow her cover she narrowed her eyes, as if trying to hold back seething anger; the truth didn't feel like being revealed._

_ "Why would you say that?" Claire shook her head lightly and shrugged her shoulders. "Geez, he must be doing something to Chris' little sister, because she gives him the time of day, right?"_

_ "I mean it! Nothing pisses me off more than a man disrespecting my sister in any way, shape or form. He can mess with me all he likes, but if he so much as looks at you the wrong way I'll smash his damn skull in."_

_ Claire sighed in frustration and rubbed her temples. "You know what? Fine. If you want me to keep my distance from him I will." She stood up and Chris grabbed ahold of her forearm._

_ "I didn't say that, Claire. I just want you to be careful around him."_

_ Claire yanked her arm away. "I am careful. Why are you so paranoid?"_

_ "I'm trying to do what's best for you!" Chris screamed louder than Claire was used to, and that, surprisingly, made her sad. At this moment in time, he was trying to be someone he wasn't. Claire turned away and sighed._

_ "You're not dad…"_

"Hey, snap out of it," Forest nudged Chris out of his thoughts as they went along the long curve of the track. "Wesker's looking at you."

Chris didn't bother trying to scope Wesker out—in whatever position he was standing in—and kept his gaze ahead. He wanted to avoid any contact with Wesker for as long as he could; he felt shame nipping at him, not only because he lost the spar he and his captain had engaged in, but because he didn't let Claire go out to dinner, and now everyone suffered the consequences.

The light drizzle of rain suddenly felt like hail pummeling his STARS jacket, badgering him just as his thoughts had been doing all morning. As the team came to the straightaway, they broke into a sprint—Chris, Forest and Joseph leading the pack. Out of the corner of his eyes, Chris could see Wesker watching them closely as he made his way to the curve ahead to meet the team.

"Sprint the last straight and meet me on the field!" Wesker shouted and turned his back just as everyone got to the curve. Chris gritted his teeth at his captain's retreating form and used all his strength to resist knocking him out from behind. Not that it would help any, but it would sure release a lot of anger he had bottled up inside. Once the straight was in his sights Chris booked it as fast as his stiff legs would carry him; several cramps had already made their nests in his calves. Leading the team, he turned to make sure Wesker was watching; he wanted to show his captain that this workout didn't bother him. He could take it. Heck, he wanted more…well, not really.

When the STARS captain looked over at him, Chris faced forward, a satisfied grin on his face. It quickly faded when one misstep on the slippery track caused him to stumble forward and slide stomach first. He wrinkled his face in pain, hissing as he lightly touched his stomach; the friction had caused a burning sensation over his abs.

"Fuck," he breathed as he propped himself on his elbows, before pushing himself on his knees. His stare remained on the ground until his blurry vision cleared. Black boots appeared beside him and he looked up to find his captain standing with an amused expression on his face, one that made Chris curl his lip.

"Going a little fast there, weren't you?" Wesker watched the other members zoom past he and Chris just before the next curve of the track; they panted and walked around to keep their muscles warm. His eyes remained on them. "I guess it didn't occur to you that it's drizzling." He made a "hmph" sound and turned back to Chris, just as he stood and adjusted his jacket.

"Yeah, well I guess it didn't occur to you that this isn't weather to run the track in." Chris turned to join his colleagues. He didn't have time for this shit.

"I believe you've earned yourself another lap." The edgy baritone in his voice was not without warning, and Chris could tell-no, feel the amusement slip away; and just like that, Albert Wesker was back to being pissed off.

"I've already done my share of laps, and just like the rest of the team I'm finished," Chris called over his shoulder, but something inside him collapsed in regret; he was crossing the line—Wesker's line—and his was never to be crossed. Chris turned around, Wesker's dark shades beaming back at him, and sighed.

_Damn._

"On the contrary, Chris, the team finished their lap; you would have too if you hadn't lost your glass slipper and fell." Chris clenched his jaw, ready to rebuttal, but Wesker wasn't finished. "And for your defiance, you will run laps continuously until I say stop."

"What?!"

"And I will not hear any lip from you," Wesker warned. "But if you can't hold that tongue of yours, I won't hesitate to send you home." He shook his head. "You will _not_ try my patience today. Is that clear?"

_Fuck! _Chris thought as he clenched his fists, feeling the blood in his veins heat up from anger. That wasn't fair. Wesker had certainly punished him for his running mouth and for disobedience before, but he was getting out of hand. Every opportunity that presented itself allowed Wesker to make a move before Chris could even register what was happening, or why it was happening.

Chris threw his hood on, glaring eyes penetrating Wesker's lenses. "Crystal."

Chris ran passed the team, not bothering to answer Forest—lest Wesker add to his punishment—as he shouted "What the hell are you doing?!" onto deaf ears. Forest looked from Chris to Wesker and held his arms open in confusion, but the Alpha captain made no effort to answer him back. He merely gave his usual hardened stare and held it long enough for Forest and the others to turn away.

Chris sprinted his first straight and Wesker watched in delight, seeing the marksman's body force itself forward despite the pain it recently endured; and the painted grimace on his face was nothing short of satisfying.

Wesker glanced at his watch, noting it was nearly 7:30 A.M., and crossed to his team; the light conversations that had been going on flat lined into silence as he approached.

Enrico pulled his hood further downwards when he gave a nod in Chris' direction. "What did Redfield do this time?"

Wesker turned in time to see Chris pass them around the curve. "You can ask him at lunch."

* * *

The cafeteria wasn't usually full during this time (as everyone purposefully avoided the lunch lady's food) but today was different; mashed potatoes with turkey gravy, a buttered roll, and mixed vegetables were being served and, apparently, that was the only dish the officers would touch.

Chris sat at a lunch table with his head buried in his arms, listening to the sounds of heavy footsteps and voices around him. He was exhausted. Never had he ran so much in all his life; even the Air Force proved no match to what Chris liked to call, "Wesker's Boot Camp." The man was relentless and his methods for teaching someone a lesson became quite a pain in the ass as far as Chris was concerned. Then again, he could only blame himself: he had a sharp tongue, one that liked to poke at Wesker until he boiled inside; he was stubborn—that much was for sure, considering his habit of going toe-to-toe with Wesker and losing all the time, every time. Chris could only guess how many points Wesker's ego rose each time he was 'defiant.'

"Not hungry?" Jill asked as she plopped in the chair next to Chris, causing him to jump slightly. "I thought after all that running you'd be starving."

Chris looked at her groggily and gave a yawn. "Although I agree with your last statement, I'm more tired than hungry." With a slight tilt of his neck, he cracked it and rolled his shoulders before propping his head up. "And still a bit pissed off…"

"I don't blame you, Chris," Jill said between bites of her roll, "but, seriously, you should try to control your mouth." Chris gave her a look of disbelief. "I know, I know, 'what am I talking about' right?"

"I know how to handle Wesker," he bit back with irritation.

"See? There you go again. Look, all I'm saying is that when Wesker says some snide remark or offends you, just handle it professionally and not act like you're still in grade school."

"Hey, if _he _gets mouthy with me I'm not gonna just sit back and take it—no way! Insults for insults, give and receive, Jill. That's how you play the game." Chris stood and took Jill's roll out of her hand, taking a bite and giving a wink before leaving the cafeteria with it.

* * *

Claire drove Chris' Jeep steadily down the sleek street, careful not to slide off course and hit a parked car or a pedestrian that might attempt to cross without looking both ways. She silently prayed that neither of the two scenarios came true; Chris would kill her once he got home.

Once Claire got away from the city she decided to press a little harder on the accelerator, since there weren't many cars (or pedestrians) around for her to hit. She turned the volume up on the radio and mouthed the lyrics.

"We don't need no education…we don't need no thought control…" A sharp siren alerted her and she looked into the rearview, cursing when red and blue lights appeared in the reflection. She smacked the steering wheel and pulled over to the curb. The undercover cop car parked behind her. The door opened and the sound of dispatch relaying information to patrolling officers filled the air. Claire shifted between her rear and driver's side mirror, trying to get a look at the officer. She hoped it was someone she knew and if it wasn't, a Sally-Sob story would be in order…that or claiming something was burning in the oven would have to do.

Blond hair glistened in the sun as Wesker stepped out onto the wet street, boots crunching tiny pebbles with each step as he approached. Claire resisted slamming her head repeatedly into the steering wheel and instead shut her eyes.

"This isn't happening," she whispered. "Not now…not him."

"I thought this vehicle looked familiar. What a pleasant surprise, Miss Redfield."

_Crap._

Claire opened her eyes and kept her hands on the wheel. "Captain," she nodded, keeping her eyes forward. Just as she opened her mouth—

"Do you know why I stopped you?" Wesker asked seriously, tone going back to its usual coldness.

"If I had to guess…" she looked at him with a slight cringe, knowing that a ticket would send Chris into a fit. "…Was it speeding?"

Wesker smirked. "My, isn't that surprising? I was expecting a white lie, but you hit it right on the nose, Miss Redfield."

Claire sighed. "Don't call me—"

"License, please."

Claire gave him a look of disbelief and fished around her in her backpack. She passed her license to Wesker, averting her eyes in embarrassment.

"Here."

Wesker examined her license photo with amusement. "Very orange…" he muttered before a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Just give me my ticket so I can go." Claire was already pissed because she would get a ticket, but having to explain to Chris that she was born with a lead foot, and that going over the speed limit wasn't her fault would prove to be difficult.

Wesker held out the license. "Who said I was giving you a ticket?"

Claire's eyes switched between the card and Wesker, and when she didn't immediately take it he gestured to it in an impatient matter. Claire took the card between his fingers, and when their skin made contact she retracted her hand, looking away.

Wesker smirked and brought his hand to adjust his glasses. "I am curious, though," he began. "Why were you in such a hurry?"

Claire shrugged her shoulders, flicking the card against her fingers. "I-I guess I just wanted to get home where it's safe. I'm not very fond of driving on sleek streets."

"I can see that. But you know that driving above the speed limit in unsafe conditions doesn't make it safe for others or yourself. Perhaps it would be in your best interest to drive the posted speed or refrain from driving at all." Claire nodded, hoping Wesker wouldn't see the light blush on her cheeks, and grabbed her backpack and placed her license in her wallet.

"Well, I just came from school, but…" she nodded in understanding, "…If I don't have to drive when the streets are wet, then I won't."

Wesker dipped his head. "Good." It came out drier than Claire had expected. "You drive carefully, Miss Redfield. You might not be so lucky next time."

"I'll be careful, thanks." Claire muttered and put the car in drive.

Just as Wesker stepped away from the Jeep, he turned back slightly. "By the way, I certainly hope you don't have any plans tonight."

"Why?" Claire asked with knitted brows, earning a smirk from Wesker.

"We have a dinner reservation. Be ready by seven." He started for his cruiser, when Claire popped her head out of the window.

"Wait!" Wesker paused and looked over his shoulder. "Don't I get a parting gift?" The meaning behind Claire's question stood out like a light in the dark; she puckered her lips slightly, which earned her a look of disapproval.

"If it's a ticket you desire, I'd be more than happy to accommodate you."

Claire's face fell and she immediately shook her head. "That will be all, Captain. Have a good one." She pulled out into the street and started off towards her house. Wesker watched the Jeep until it disappeared around the curve, before entering his cruiser and making a sharp U-turn, heading back towards the station.

* * *

A blue Mustang was parked on a side street, not far from where Wesker and Claire had been: the engine emitted a low growl in its idle state; and in the driver's seat sat Greg with suspicion swimming in his eyes. He watched Claire drive off in one direction and Wesker doing the same in the opposite right after. Greg had to think on that one. Was it coincidence that Wesker just _happened _to be the officer that stopped Claire? Or perhaps it was an orchestrated meeting called by the captain himself? Either way, it didn't sit right in Greg's stomach. Suspicion bit at his feelings over and over until he had no choice but to keep a close watch on Claire—more importantly Wesker; he was conniving enough, Greg thought, and that meant keeping both eyes peeled. And judging from Claire's—pouting lips, or…?—there was definitely a red flag waving in front of his face.

Something was going on.

* * *

Claire blew cool air over her cup of noodles as she brought them out of the microwave. The chilly weather had prompted for a hot meal, and Claire was in no mood to actually cook, and like most college students, processed noodles was the food of choice. She took a seat at the table and pulled out a Harley Davidson catalogue, skimming through the pages while she twirled her noodles. Before she could consume any, however, the doorbell rang.

"Right _now_?" She said with a sigh and went for the door, surprise on her features as Greg smiled in the doorway.

"Hey, Claire. I, uh…hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," he said while looking past Claire to see if she had any company.

"Uh…no-no…just an unexpected surprise…" An uneasy smile graced her lips. "What's up?"

"Got out of my forensics class early—thought I'd drop by." There was an awkward silence between them, and catching Greg's drift, Claire wedged her body closer to block the entrance into her house.

"That's…cool, I guess."

Greg raised a brow. "Yeah…but hey, are you doing anything later?" Wesker immediately popped into Claire's mind, though with purpose this time and not spontaneously like he'd been doing all day.

Dinner. Yes—dinner with Wesker.

"I…uh, yeah-yeah. I'm actually going to a friend's house later on—kinda girly hangout, if you know what I mean."

Greg nodded in acceptance, trying to bury his inner anger in the pit of his stomach. "Oh, really? Is it someone from school?"

"No…" Claire avoided looking at Greg directly, and focused on the dried leaves that were on the porch. "She's actually in town—"

"So she's not from here?"

"No-Yeah! She's not from here," Claire fumbled, accidently tripping over her own words. "She's from _out_ of town?" Claire wanted to spit in disgust. That wouldn't fool anyone. Even Chris could tell that was a lie.

"I think you mean she's a friend from out of town, who _came_ to town for a visit, right?"

"Yes!" Claire chuckled nervously with a nod. "Sorry—long day and all. You know how it can be…"

Greg shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry, it happens. But hey, if you decide to change plans, I'm game for a movie or something."

"Sure. You'll be the first one on my list." She gave a thumbs up and stepped further inside her house. "Drive safe."

"I will." Greg waved goodbye and walked to his Mustang in front of the house. Claire watched him drive away before closing the door and pressing her back to it, releasing a deep sigh as she slid to the ground.

"That was freakin' close," she muttered and rose to make her way into the kitchen, glancing at the microwave as she passed it. It read 4:46 pm. "Damn," she cursed. "What the hell am I gonna wear?"

* * *

"Man, I wish I could've seen it, but I had promised to take the girls fishing," Barry said as he signed his name at the bottom of his report. He placed it in the outbox basket and turned to Chris, shaking his head at his blank report. "Was it a fair fight at least?"

Chris sighed, writing the date at the top of the report before sighing back in his chair. "Is anything Wesker does fair?" Barry shrugged. "Yeah, it was fair. I egged him on anyways, so…" He looked towards Wesker's office; he had left the door open. He _never _left his door open, good mood or not.

_I'm watching you, Wesker. _Chris thought.

"No way," Barry said sarcastically and propped his head up. "_You_, Chris Redfield, _egged_ Captain Wesker on? I have to tell the world." He gave a hearty laugh and shook his head, before pulling another report out of the inbox.

Chris smiled. "Alright, alright, you know what I mean. I had a good reason this time, though." Chris kept his eyes on Wesker. "He wanted to take Claire out…and I told him no. I'm sure he's still ticked off about it. That's why he's been so harsh lately." Chris went back to his report. "Particularly at me," he mumbled.

Barry paused in his writing and looked up. "Claire?!" he asked a little too loudly, which caused Jill and Brad's heads to pop up.

Chris nodded in Wesker's direction. "Shhh. Geez, pal. You practically set off a few warning shots with that one; keep it low."

"Sorry," Barry whispered. "But with the captain?" He stopped to ponder the idea. "I mean, she's old enough…"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Not you too. That's exactly what Claire said. What the hell, man? Am I the only one who thinks that's wrong?"

"I'm not saying its one-hundred percent right, but she's a young lady now. I'm sure she can make her own decisions, Chris."

Wesker's voice boomed into the silent office. "Jill—more coffee, would you?"

Jill rolled her computer chair back and stood. "Black, Captain?"

"Please," he drawled, glancing at Jill. "Thank you." He went back to his work without another word.

Joseph mouthed a mocking "thank you" under his breath as Jill passed, earning him a flick on his ear and a stuck-out tongue.

Chris waited for Jill to pass before continuing with Barry. "I know she can make her own decisions, but…" he nodded at Wesker, "…with him? It would make things intolerable."

"As if they're not already, Chris? I mean, yeah, I can see where you're coming from, but…" Barry sighed off Chris' frown. "Why don't you just let it be? Who knows, she might fall for that what's-his-name kid."

"I guess…"

Jill returned with a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee and placed it on Wesker's desk. He gave a nod in thanks and immediately took a drink. Just as Jill turned to exit, the Alpha captain handed her a sheet of paper. She looked over it briefly and nodded. Wesker thanked her again before taking another drink.

Jill waved the paper in the air. "Schedule's up, boys." She tacked it to the bulletin board before taking her seat. Chris shot up and almost tripped on his way to the board. He placed his finger on his name and slid it across to the current date. He gritted his teeth.

"Motherfucker," he growled and went back to his seat.

"What happened?" Barry asked with concern.

Chris sighed in frustration and, feeling a stare on him, looked up. Wesker had his eyes on him, making a toast-like gesture with his coffee before taking a drink. The marksman swore he saw a smirk.

Chris grimaced and forced himself to look away. "I'm on patrol again tonight."

* * *

Claire finished placing the last bobby pin through her hair to tightly secure her bun. She sighed at her reflection. "Well, you're all done, Claire." She pulled her dress hanging on the door down and carefully slipped into it—a white, off the shoulder dress that reached just above the knees, and a pair of heels to go with it. She wasn't gonna lie; she hated heels with a passion. They just weren't her. Despite that, she was able to manage walking in them without stumbling; she had the two hours prior to thank for that.

The doorbell rang, causing Claire to jump. "Already?" She gave herself one last look over before heading to the door. She opened it and nearly fainted at the sight before her.

Perfectly slicked back blond hair, glimmering under the porch light like gold; a pair of glossy black lenses without a finger print or scratch on them; an expensive sleek, gray suit with a black button up and matching tie underneath; Oxford-style dress shoes added the final touch to his perfect ensemble. Wesker stood there casually with his hands in his pockets, looking Claire up and down.

"Beautiful," Wesker said when dark lenses met Claire's eyes.

"You are…" Claire agreed, still transfixed on Wesker's form. She shook her head and, having realized what she said, added, "…early. By," she checked the clock on the wall, "four minutes."

"Oh? Perhaps I should wait in the car until seven?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "Real funny. It's just, I've never had anyone actually be on time for me…"Claire shrugged her shoulders. "…For anything…"

"I'm not just anyone, Claire."

"I know, I know." She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess it's something I have to get used to."

"There's no time like the present." He turned his wrist to check the time on his gold Rolex. "Perhaps it is best we take our leave." He held out his hand for Claire, raising brow when she disappeared inside the house, reappearing with her clutch and house keys.

"Can't forget these," she said, giving the keys a shake and locking the door. Wesker offered his arm and the redhead looped hers around his, making it look like they were about to dance to a Country song. She opted to grab ahold of his hard bicep instead, suddenly feeling the need to slap her palm against her forehead.

_There's one tally mark for mess-ups._

Wesker opened the passenger door for Claire and closed it when she slid in. He started the car and pulled away from the curb, putting his seatbelt on after he shifted into second.

"You know, you look really handsome. I mean you always do, but…wow…"

Wesker looked at Claire with knitted brows, before facing forward, hiding his crooked smile.

"Women tell me that all the time."

Claire smiled when the subtle playfulness in his voice caressed her ears. "Do they? Well, can't blame the girls; they probably have daddy issues."

Wesker smirked. "Good one. Did you get that from a tabloid?"

"…The receptionist at the station, actually. She's quite fond of you."

"I sense jealousy…"

"What's there to be jealous about? She's been nailed by everyone in the station. The girl has lost all traces of her dignity…now she wants you to nail her." Claire busted out laughing, covering her mouth when Wesker shook his head.

"Her ears are probably ringing right about now." Wesker's attempt at being serious put Claire into a bigger laughing fit.

"No more…" she said in between pants. Another laugh. "Oh God, Wesker…"

"Like that one, did you?" His words were pure silk, glazing over Claire's skin that caused a wave of goosebumps to appear. His tone had deepened to a more seductive degree, and Claire had finally stopped laughing to hear it. She absentmindedly dried any tears that had formed.

"Y-yeah, you'd be great at comedy," she mocked.

"But I'm already great at something else."

_Damn that voice…Don't challenge him, Claire. Don't challenge—_

"And what would that be?" Claire asked in the same tone, too shy to look him in the eye when he responded; she was already getting away with murder for challenging him.

Wesker chuckled as he shifted gears. "Perhaps you'll find out after dinner."

A wave of heat rose in Claire as she swallowed the harsh lump in her throat. She turned her head to look at the city lights as they passed the skyscrapers on the freeway; they suddenly became the most interesting things in the world.

* * *

"I'll take you to your seats now," said the female waitress as she took two menus from the front desk, and led Wesker and Claire to their table. The redhead glanced at every table they passed to see what kind of dish sat in front of each occupant, and just about every dish she'd seen, most had been steak or a fancy seafood dish; in that knowledge, Claire had to assume the food wasn't cheap.

They finally stopped at a booth in the corner—a private area, Claire guessed, since there weren't many occupants near them. She slid onto one side of the booth, Wesker the other, and the female waitress placed the menus in front of them.

"Your server will be with you shortly," she said with a nod and made her exit.

Claire picked up her menu and browsed through the items, eyes widening the further she went down the list. "Holy crap…"

Wesker raised a brow as he removed his glasses and pocketed them. "Pardon?"

Claire gave a look of disbelief. "The food; it's so expensive, Wesker. Prime rib for sixty bucks? Prime rib." She repeated. "That's insane."

Wesker opened his menu and began browsing, almost shrugging the complaint off. "Eat what you want," he said nonchalantly and stopped to read the description of a particular steak.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Would I have brought you here if the price mattered?" Deep blue eyes bore into Claire's; there was something about them that made her toes curl, and that was a _huge_ understatement.

He went back to browsing. "Eat what you want," he said firmly this time.

"Good Evening. My name is Tammy, and I'll be your server. Can I start you off with any drinks?"

Claire rolled her eyes behind her menu; everything _Tammy _said was directed at Wesker. No surprise, Claire thought to herself. Tammy looked like a desperate housewife (or desperate woman in general) that was out to get any piece of meat she could find; her boobs stuck out like cantaloupe melons that were nearly shoved into Wesker's face; her ponytail might've been the only feature that didn't look out of place.

Claire couldn't help but feel a pinch of jealousy—for real this time. But she took a deep breath, and reassured herself that Wesker wouldn't touch that beast with latex gloves…or so she hoped.

"A glass of Glenmorangie on the rocks, please."

Tammy wrote down Wesker's drink of choice and looked over at Claire, awaiting her reply.

"Um…can I just have a Coke?"

Tammy's scrunched her face as she scribbled her drink down, probably wondering why she ordered soda, but Claire didn't care.

"Excellent. I'll be back with your drinks momentarily."

Claire played with the fancy napkin that housed her utensils, trying to get her temper down so as not to ruin the evening.

_That bitch…_

"Have you decided on what you'll be having?" Wesker asked as he placed his menu down and clasped his fingers together, awaiting Claire's answer.

Claire rolled her utensils back and forth in the napkin. "I think…" she stopped and smiled.

"The prime rib?" Wesker offered.

"The prime rib. It looks good, so…I'm sure it will fill me up."

Wesker released a dry chuckle and unbuttoned his jacket. "I'm sure it will be delicious." He stood and removed it, draping it over the headrest. Claire's eyes moved over Wesker's form, from his broad shoulders to his lean arms, across his chest, down his abs and lower—

"Okay, I have a glass of Glenmorangie _on the rocks_ for the handsome gentleman. And a Coke—

"Thanks!" Claire blurted as she grabbed the Coke, jamming the straw into the soda and taking large gulps, drinking nearly half the cup. Tammy made a face of disgust as she watched Claire sigh after that refreshing elixir. "Sorry. I was very parched."

Wesker cleared his throat, clearly not amused by Claire's sudden behavior. "I believe we are ready to order."

* * *

"I still can't believe she gave you her number," Claire laughed as they came to a red light. "The way she threw herself at you…I called it."

"Thank you, Detective Redfield," Wesker said sourly. The whole ordeal rubbed him the wrong way. He picked and chose his women, not the other way around; if he wanted a woman, he would have her and they wouldn't refuse him. But _this _woman—this Tammy—was persistent, continuously flirting and batting her fake lashes every chance she got. Claire could only smile. She had been jealous at first, but said jealousy faded away when Claire saw the positive side of Tammy's sad attempts—pure entertainment. The prime rib, Claire thought, seemed to have tasted much better.

The light turned green and the car accelerated into motion. "I'll let you know when there's an opening at the department," Wesker added, almost sneering with narrowed eyes.

"Geez, don't get upset. It was just a joke…" Claire turned to Wesker and studied his face; his prominent cheekbones shifted up and down each time he clenched his jaw.

"Look," Claire began, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You didn't embarrass me, Claire."

Wesker didn't look at her, didn't regard her in any way. She sighed. "Thank you for a wonderful night." She leaned against the window. "It was the most fun I had in a long time."

"Hmph. Fun?"

"Yeah, fun. You know, what normal people do for a good time."

There was a moment of silence on Wesker's end as he chose his next words. "Then perhaps I'm not a normal person," he said finally as they pulled up to Claire's house and parked.

"Maybe that's what I find so appealing about you." With those last words, Claire leaned over and kissed Wesker's smooth cheek, and then moving over to his ear, she whispered, "Thanks again," and pulled back. She exited without another word.

Wesker sat there for a few moments, breathing slightly heavier than usual, to calm himself. Without bidding a farewell, Wesker pulled away and drove into the darkness.

Claire fumbled with her keys, trying to find the house key amidst her keychains. She sighed, finally finding the correct one, and inserted it into the lock.

"Don't you look nice," said a voice from behind her.

Claire spun around, and seeing that it was Greg, gave a sigh of relief. "You jerk. You scared the shit outta me."

"I'm sorry," he said almost mockingly. "Didn't mean to scare you, Claire." He sized her up. "Friend had a party?"

Claire licked her dried lips and tried to mentally compose herself. "Kinda. I-I guess I forgot to mention it was her birthday."

"Oh?" He started to pace in front of Claire. "At a steak house?"

"Er-What?"

"Yeah a steak house—Jack Wilson's? It's on Creek and Vine, right?" Claire's face fell. "_And_…" Greg tapped a finger on his bottom lip. "…I think Wesker was there, too, wasn't he? What, did he supervise the party? See, 'cause it didn't look like that, considering the suit he was wearing."

"Greg," Claire said with warning. "You were stalking us?"

"Ah! So you admit it; you were with Wesker." Greg clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Wow, Claire. I didn't think _you_ of all people would stoop that low."

"Fuck you," she growled. "You don't know Wesker and you certainly don't know me. I don't know what kind of sick, investigation shit you're trying to pull, but this had better stop or—"

"Or what?! You're gonna tell brother Chris?" Claire stayed quiet. "Oh, I forgot, he doesn't know about you and Wesker, does he? From what I've heard he's not too fond about you seeing his dear old captain. So…now that that's out in the open, how about we set things straight?" Greg's voice lowered in a threatening manner. "Stay away from Wesker or I'll expose your secret relationship to everyone. Wesker will go down as some cradle snatcher and your brother will be so disappointed, he'll probably quit STARS just to keep you away." Greg studied Claire's features, noticing that she would explode any minute. But he didn't care; he needed to make his point. "Don't be stupid, Claire. I'll be watching."

And with that, Greg took his leave, leaving Claire in tears—tears that were the result of boiling rage. Her body tensed and trembled from the stress that spread through it, yet despite this, Claire managed to get inside her house without breaking the damn door down. She immediately went to her bathroom and started the shower. A million thoughts crossed her mind: Should she tell Wesker? Chris? What would happen if Greg saw her at the station, period? Would he be stalking her? She didn't know, and that troubled her. Maybe she should tell Wesker, or perhaps she should handle this herself. Either way, one thing was certain.

Chris would have to sit this one out.

* * *

**OK! Damn, I didn't think I would ever get to finish this chapter. It bothered me for weeks on end; seriously, I lost sleep over it. Between my screenplay and this story, I don't know what's worse ;) Still, I'm in the middle on this chapter; I liked it and didn't at the same time. :/**

**It seems Greg wasn't the person we all thought he was, hm? Creeper in disguise—don't you just love the crazy ones? Now he's blackmailing poor Claire; Wesker's conflicted with his feelings, probably still thinking about the word 'fun.' And Chris? Still pissed off at Wesker, of course ;) If you thought this chapter was interesting (or lack thereof) wait until you see the next chapter. A Tyrant will be born. *Cough* Interpret that any way you wish ;)**

**p.s. I hope the dinner scene was ok; everyone seemed disappointed that Chris said no to Wesker, but Wesker wouldn't be Wesker if he listened to Chris ;) Just thought I'd write a bit of it anyways for those that were interested.**

**p.p.s Would someone like to babysit Wesker until I'm ready to update? He's been nagging me about when he gets to fight Chris again. *rolls eyes* I swear, some people think they belong on a pedestal. ;) Reviews are appreciated, but not necessary. If you have any questions, comments, opinions, etc., or wanna FB me, hit me up on my profile :D Thanks again for reading! Until next time! – Lil V. **


	9. The Spider and The Fly

**Greetings, humans-er, vampires, werewolves, zombies, etc. Thank you for all the continued support; it makes me feel really good. I hope I'm keeping you entertained ;D lol **

**I want to start off by apologizing: I know I've told many of you that I would update ASAP, but I've been so busy with projects and work and—oh, get this!—not sleeping :/ So again, I'm very sorry, and to make up for my absence, this chapter will be the longest yet. Hope you don't fall asleep!**

**On a side note, I know EVERYONE hates Greg right about now, and I don't blame you—I really hate him too haha Not just for what he did to Claire, but just as a character; I created him for a purpose, though ;D And in this chapter, you will find out why. **

**WARNING: This chapter will contain graphic scenes pertaining to, but not limited to, torture, gore, blood (lots of it), and tons of emotional stuff that's worse than usual. If you don't like that kind of stuff, now's the time to turn back; I can't stress this enough. You've been warned…**

* * *

**The Spider and the Fly**

Claire couldn't eat, couldn't sleep; it seemed like the days blurred by and she was slowly losing her will to do anything. Her schoolwork proved to be more of a burden than usual, and she neglected it to the point of almost failing her courses; she spent most of her time at home, trying desperately to avoid Greg _and_ Wesker, but to no avail—Greg insisted on coming by so that he and Claire could study for their upcoming math final. Chris thought it was a good idea—seeing no _real _harm the young man could do (little did he know)—so he left the duo to their work. Unfortunately for Claire this meant being home alone with the douchebag on occasions and left her helpless; Chris was at work, and unless she could get private time to speak to Wesker on the phone, there was no way she could contact him; Greg was determined to keep her in his sights.

It wasn't like Claire couldn't contact Wesker, per say, but doing so would put both of them in jeopardy, not to mention how Chris would react to everything Claire kept from him so far. She dreaded the outcome.

Claire gave a sigh and made her way to the front of the bus, waiting for it to fully stop before taking her leave. She walked the few streets to the RPD with her head down, wondering what (if anything) would await her once she arrived. It had been almost a week since she'd seen or talked to Wesker. Not that he was biting his nails when Claire failed to return his messages, but she was sure he would get to the bottom of things—he was so good at it, after all.

Suddenly a wave of nausea hit the pit of her stomach. Claire faulted in her step and nearly collapsed into some shrubs face first, dry heaving a few times before regaining her composure.

"Shit." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smeared the saliva into her jeans as if nothing happened, continuing to her destination shortly after. Once she reached the department, she took a deep breath, fixed her bangs and opened the door. Cool air rushed over her fevered skin, and as good as she wanted it to feel, Claire couldn't help but curse. Goosebumps popped up like whack-o-moles on her body, sending unwanted chills along her spine and tingles down her arms; she was freezing.

"Damn, do you guys have the freakin' AC on in here?" Claire asked the receptionist, Rachel, as she approached the desk, rubbing her arms to keep warm.

Rachel raised a brow as she looked up from her Glamor magazine. "Um…well, it's about 80 degrees outside, Claire—"

"So yeah, you do," Claire confirmed and looked around to see numerous officers chatting away and laughing. "Is my brother back from patrol yet?"

Rachel ran a hand through her brown hair, before nonchalantly tossing it back like some model in a shampoo commercial. She went back to the magazine. "He was."

"What do you mean he _was_?" Claire asked in irritation. She was freezing her ass off; not to mention she had a fever.

"He came back about twenty minutes ago," Rachel began, still not looking up, "but he left moments later with Captain Wesker and the other STARS." She shrugged. "Guess they got a call or something."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Great." It was just like her brother to pull shit and not give her the heads-up. "Well, I'm gonna wait for him in the STARS office." Claire waited for an answer, but got a mere wave instead; Rachel was obviously more interested in whatever fashion was in for Spring than _politely _returning an answer.

Claire snorted._ Whatever_, she thought as she climbed the stairs. The office was void of any life (except for the wilting plant in the corner of the room) and Claire welcomed the silence. She immediately took a seat at Chris' desk and put her face down onto its cold surface, feeling the unbearable heat fade slightly; none too soon, the desk surface was warm from her touch and she opted to slide her cheek over to a cool spot. It wasn't long before her eyes became heavy and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Chris stuffed the last of his jelly donut in his mouth, almost swallowing it whole before washing it down with some milk. He smacked his lips in satisfaction as he set the empty carton down on the table.

"Damn, I needed that," he mumbled, looking as though he'd fall into a food coma any minute, eyelids halfway closed as he slid down in his seat.

It was a slow day at the office, and Chris took it upon himself to treat the Alphas to a donut break; everyone looked like they needed it, especially with the way things were moving at the office. Even Chris had to admit he was falling asleep on occasion, because—Lo Behold!—he didn't have paperwork. Yes—no paperwork. Surprisingly, the mounds of said work had lightened considerably over the course of the month, and as far as the STARS were concerned, life was good.

The Alphas were situated at a table near a window with a dozen assorted donuts in the center, eating as they conversed over the week's previous events.

Joseph couldn't contain his laughter, nearly choking on his donut as he tried to explain to his teammates what he and Forest dared Brad to do over the weekend.

"…And I told Chicken I'd give him fifty bucks if he screamed 'I have erectile dysfunction!' in the lobby." Joseph stopped to swallow the remaining donut before taking a deep breath and laughing some more. "A-and Forest was, like, 'I'll give you one-hundred if you say it with only your boxers on!'"

Jill covered her mouth with both hands, trying desperately to remain neutral, remembering how fragile Brad's self-esteem was. Her face turned a light pink. "Oh my God, you guys didn't…" she said, hoping it wasn't true, but seeing how embarrassed Brad was as he sunk his shoulders proved her assumptions to be true.

Barry capped his orange juice and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can't you two leave Brad alone?" He turned to Brad. "Why do you let them pick on you like that? I would've kicked them both in the dick and called it a day."

Chris leaned forward in his chair, choosing his words carefully. "You…you didn't really do it, right?"

"No," Brad grumbled, flinching when Joseph put an arm around him. "Don't you think he'd have some proof if that happened? That just goes to show he hasn't grown up."

"Indeed." Everyone turned to see Wesker heading back to the table, a steaming cup of black coffee in his hand. He settled in the chair towards the end of the table, scooting it further back so he had room to cross his legs. He took a sip of coffee. "Had I been aware of your child's play, you and Mr. Speyer would have found yourselves tied up to the flagpole in front of the station." He took another sip, not taking his eyes off Joseph. Wesker could feel surprise evaporating off the team's faces, and he smirked, feeling satisfied.

"Wesker," Jill began, embarrassment in her voice. "You're just as bad as Frost by saying something like that. I thought you were supposed to lead by example."

Wesker put his cup down and sat back in his chair. "I am. Should such—shall we say, unfortunate circumstances?—befall Frost and Mr. Speyer, it would be in their best interest to behave like civilized human beings in the future, lest they try my patience further; of course by then, they'll be filing for unemployment." Wesker reached for his cup, a hard gaze behind his shades as he sat back and stared at Joseph. "Wouldn't you agree, Frost?"

Joseph sat up straight. "Absolutely, sir," Joseph said sarcastically. "I mean, the precinct is so boring that it would be wrong for Forest and I to lighten it up a bit." He dipped his head. "My apologies…"

Barry chuckled as he tilted his juice back, fighting the urge to spit it all over Chris and Jill; Chris crossed his arms, pressing his lips together and keeping his gaze on Barry; Jill kept her head dipped, as though she had taken interest in her coffee stained napkin; Brad sank back in his chair, trying to avoid his captain's 'death stare' at all costs.

The coffee kissed Wesker's lips as he paused, lowering the cup from his mouth, eyebrows knitted. "Forgive me; I seem to be a hair short from being completely deaf. Would you care to repeat—

"Captain, why don't you have a donut?" Jill interjected, sliding the donut box towards Wesker, who frowned as he tore his eyes from Joseph. "Chris got your favorite."

"Maple bars _would_ complement your coffee, Wesker." Chris reached into the box and placed a maple bar on a napkin, and carefully slid it towards Wesker.

"Those aren't my favorite," Wesker said in a matter of fact.

"But you haven't eaten a donut," Chris replied. "There's two left for you, and you can't tell me that you won't eat one. We're in a donut shop, after all."

Wesker raised his coffee to his lips. "I won't eat one," he said in an amused tone, before finishing off his cup. He checked the time on his watch and then turned his head from side to side to crack his neck. "We should be heading back," he said dryly as he stood and pushed in his chair. The team stood shortly after and gathered all their trash, pushing their chairs in before following Wesker outside. Chris grabbed the near empty box of donuts and held them at his side, moving quickly to catch up with his captain.

"Wesker!" Chris called before the blond slipped into his vehicle, and jogged around the cruiser to the driver's side. Wesker stood with one foot already inside the vehicle while the other supported him; he rested one arm over the door and the other on the roof of the car. He waited patiently for Chris to spit it out.

"Can I talk to you?"

"I suppose that depends on the importance of the matter."

"Please?"

Wesker debated for a moment, before finally releasing a sigh and nodding for Chris to get in.

_Easy enough_, Chris thought as he buckled himself in on the passenger's side, setting the donuts at his feet.

"I hope Jill is fine with driving alone," Wesker jabbed as he set the car in motion to follow the other cruisers back to the station.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Jill's a big girl; I'm sure she can manage."

The sound of dispatch consumed the silence as neither of the officers took the honors to start the conversation. Wesker rolled his window down and grabbed onto the top sill, letting the other hand rest casually on the steering wheel, almost lost in his own world as he stared straight ahead. Chris on the other hand was borderline nervous. He'd been in the car alone with Wesker before, and his captain proved to be as he always was—blunt, sarcastic, and mocking…mostly mocking, but Chris enjoyed their talks, nevertheless; this time just happened to nibble too hard on him.

Wesker reached over and lowered the volume; dispatch faded into almost absolute silence. "So…what was it you wished to speak to me about?" When Chris said nothing right away, Wesker looked over at Chris, down at the donut box, and back up. "If this is about the God forsaken donuts, Chris, I'm going to pull over—"

"It's about Claire."

Wesker's grip tightened on the wheel as he slowed to the yellow light, keeping his expression hardened as usual.

Chris watched the rest of the team drive away, leaving him and his captain at the red. "We could've taken it. It was yellow…"

"I believe Claire deserves some spotlight, don't you? Besides," he gave a sideways glance at Chris, "it's a nice day for a drive."

When the light turned green, Wesker turned left. Chris' eyes lingered on the street the team took and shook his head.

"If you're worried about what Irons might say if we don't show up with the rest of the squad, don't." Chris raised an eyebrow. "I'm in charge, here."

_Now he's a fuckin' mind reader?_

Chris scoffed and shifted in his seat, turning to watch the city zoom by against the glass.

"Now about Claire…" Wesker pushed.

Chris took a deep breath, fogging up a portion of the window. "She's been…off lately. It's weird. She's not her usual self." He sat back and turned his head towards Wesker. "Do you ever get that feeling when someone's hiding something, and just by looking into their eyes, you know they don't want to tell you?"

Wesker clenched his jaw slightly, but remained composed as he raised his brows. He briefly wondered if Claire had said anything about their relationship, and if so, how much?

"I don't know…" Chris continued, bringing a hand up to his eyes to massage the sockets. "It just seems like something's up and she doesn't want to tell me."

"Perhaps she finds you to be too protective, Chris. I imagine she's hidden certain things from you before."

"Yeah, but she tells that kid she hangs out with, so what the hell does that make me?!" Chris stopped, realizing his harsh tone and sighed. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm just…" He shrugged, and looked away.

"Don't let your emotions control you, Chris. Haven't I taught you that?" Chris didn't look at him. "That aside, perhaps Claire feels she can relate to this…_young man_ more than she can to you. Have you actually tried speaking with her?"

"Well…not exactly…"

"I thought so," Wesker said, bringing his other hand in to grip the wheel. "Maybe that's step number one." Then a light turned on in Wesker's mind. He smiled confidently to himself as his plan unfolded. "I do have a suggestion…though I'm not sure you'd like it, seeing how eager you are to put that _boy _in your crosshairs for being your sister's confidant."

Chris looked over at Wesker with a confused expression, before realizing what he meant and frowned. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"I don't know, am I?" Wesker smirked. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Are you suggesting we take care of Greg? You know, like…?"

Wesker's brows furrowed and his lip curled in distaste. "Your miniscule intelligence betrays you, Chris." He sighed, shaking his head lightly. "No. That's not what I'm suggesting at all. I was merely going to say that, if your brotherly instincts allow it, I will be more than happy to speak with Claire. She may open up to me—"

"After wanting to go out with her? Nice try."

"Are you still holding onto that notion?"

"You're damn right," Chris growled. "What the hell did you expect me to do?"

"Let it go; it was over a week ago, Chris," Wesker said, frustration rooted in his voice. "Holding onto such nonsense will get you nowhere. Now listen to me." His voice fell dangerously low. "I'm offering my services since I believe Claire will find confidence in me to say what's going on. That's it. From here on out, you will not accuse me of trying to "go out with her" or anything of that nature. Understand?" Before Chris could reply, Wesker continued. "I warn you, I will not be so lenient the next time around. This has to stop."

"You don't know how much it bothered me, Wesker."

"Oh I do, because you haven't stopped bothering _me _about it."

"You can't sit there and tell me you wouldn't feel the same had the roles been reversed," Chris challenged. "Admit it. You'd be all over my ass."

"No, I wouldn't. Why? Because I would have the sense to know that every caged bird needs to be set free—Claire should have the right to make her own choices, Chris. You can't keep sheltering her from everything in this world, good or evil, right or wrong. She needs to see the world for what it is, and she can't do that with you covering her eyes all the time."

The stop of the car drew Chris out of his zone. Wesker cut the engine and Chris realized they were back at the station. The two sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, and Chris unlocked his door, but made no move to leave.

"I know you have more to say, so just say it already."

Wesker slowly removed his glasses and stared at his own reflection as the lenses gleamed in his hands. "Perceptive, aren't we?" A smile formed as he looked up at Chris with his blue eyes. "Tell me: do you truly trust that _Greg_ fellow with your sister?"

Chris snorted. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Just humor me, Chris."

Chris sighed and sat back in thought, pursing his lips as he considered his next words. "I don't know. He's a little different, I guess."

"Different as in…?"

"Well…he's kind and very respectful towards Claire—a big change from the usual trash she used to bring home when she was in high school, that's for sure. Other than that…" Chris turned to his captain, curiosity lingering in his eyes. "Why do you care anyways?"

"I'm rather curious," Wesker replied curtly.

"You're prying—"

"I'm merely analyzing his character. At a glance, he seems perfectly harmless, but he needs a firm hand in the attitude department—t_hat_ I can attest to."

"You _would_ say something like that." Chris shook his head. "Anyone who doesn't meet your standards is automatically labeled as inferior. You act like you know all about him."

"You dare assume that I don't? Careful, Chris…even _you_ are cautious when treading the deepest waters." Wesker slid his glasses on. "And as far as labeling anyone, know that my judgment of him is the result of our first meeting. Perhaps you should open your mind to see what your eyes cannot."

* * *

"What do you mean…?" Chris nodded to Rachel as they passed the front desk and started for the stairs. "What you and I see are totally different views of the same kid."

"Precisely. To put it in terms even you can understand, just be aware of who you trust. People wear masks all the time; some wear them so well that you can never tell who they really are." Once they reached the STARS office, Wesker reached for the doorknob. He paused and turned to Chris. "Deception is everywhere. Don't make the mistake of falling for it."

Wesker opened the door and entered first, stopping suddenly when he saw Greg and Jill sitting next to Claire.

"Wesker, Chris," Claire mustered as she stood to greet them, but was eased back into her chair by Greg.

"You look awfully pale, Miss Redfield," Wesker said as he neared the desk. He removed a glove and pressed his bare palm onto Claire's forehead and then to her cheeks. "You have a fever." Wesker turned slightly to glance at Greg, who was staring daggers at the blonde's black lenses.

"What?!" Chris rushed to Claire's side, nearly smashing into Greg. "Why aren't you at home, resting?"

"I-I wanted to see you," Claire replied before releasing a harsh cough, and shooting Wesker a look that really meant he was the one she wanted to see. "Besides, I hate being home all the time. I'm always alone."

"Hey, hey, I'm always there for you," came Greg's pathetic reply. Wesker resisted from shaking the kid until his neck snapped and opted for a different, more practical approach.

"Come," Wesker said, nodding towards his office. "I have some aspirin that will help with the _pain_." At the moment, Claire wasn't feeling any physical pain, but, if she had to guess, Wesker's use of the word had another meaning to it. She slid her way out of her chair, causing Greg to remove his hands from her shoulders. A subtle look was exchanged between Chris and his captain as the latter led Claire to his office.

"Have a seat." He said before taking a Styrofoam cup and pressing the small lever down on the water dispenser; the loud gurgle made Claire smile as she was handed the cup. Wesker held up a finger and fished through his drawer, pulling out a bottle of aspirin. He gave Claire two caplets and she downed them along with her water. She gave a satisfied sigh after drinking the last drop.

"More?"

Claire nodded and handed her cup to Wesker. He refilled it and she drank only half this time, before setting it on top of his desk. "Thank you."

He took a seat in his own chair and removed his glasses, placing them next to his mousepad. Running a hand through his hair, Wesker regarded Claire for a moment, taking special notice to her glazed eyes. He frowned. She looked exhausted, and not because she was sick, he mused, but because of _him_. It had to be. Any sensible person wouldn't forsake rest to just "visit" someone, no matter how much they missed them. Wesker looked over his computer screen to see Chris talking with Greg. The blond narrowed his eyes. He knew Greg would put on a show for Chris—the innocent, goody boy that he so pretended to be in order for Chris to trust him.

_Don't be deceived, Chris._

"I-I'm sorry, Wesker," Claire said while rubbing the back of her head. "I know I must be more trouble…and I don't want to get you sick…"

"Claire," Wesker said firmly, unstrapping the Velcro to his other glove and tossing it aside. "Please refrain from using self-pity; it doesn't become you. If you were trouble for me, I wouldn't have thought twice about helping you out. As far as getting me sick, don't waste energy worrying about that, because unlike most I don't get sick."

Claire looked down in embarrassment, suddenly feeling small—weak even—in front of Wesker. She hoped he wasn't hinting that she was weak; that's the last thing she wanted to be in front of a man who spat on weakness.

Wesker gave a sigh and sat back in his seat, arms behind his head. Claire looked up to meet his eyes, curiosity in plain sight, as he parted his lips. "Forgive me for being so forthright with you, but I feel inclined to ask: is something going on between you and your friend out there?"

Claire swallowed a dry lump in her throat, not daring to look away from Wesker as he stared on without a blink, waiting for her answer. "I-What do you mean?"

Wesker's expression became hard. "It's exactly as I said it. Is there anything other than friendship that I should know about?" Claire pressed her lips together, seemingly trying to repress whatever it was she was hiding. The good cop/bad cop routine wouldn't work here. The Alpha captain leaned on his desk and propped a hand to support his chin.

_Perhaps a different approach…_

"Does he bother you at all? And I'm not talking in terms of being a pest, but rather, some sort of cling-on."

Claire found her voice. "W-why do you say that? It's clear that he wants to be by my side."

"Yes, my dear, but what isn't clear is why you put up with him." Claire's eyes betrayed her as they widened in fear. Wesker mentally smiled. Bingo. "He seems overly protective of you for just a friend, don't you think?" Wesker's eyes flickered over to Greg, now joking with Joseph and Barry across from Brad's table. "The way he put his hands on you…is that any way for a _gentleman_ to behave?" His eyes traveled back to Claire. "Your brother sees what everyone else does, but I don't…" Wesker's expression softened slightly, sensing Claire's apprehension towards his questioning.

"…And I know you don't either. You're too bright for that. I could tell the moment I walked through that door something was wrong. So now I ask you again: is there something going on between you two?"

Claire's lips trembled and she shut her eyes, allowing her newly formed tears to slide down her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered.

_There we go._

"Tell me, Claire."

Claire bit her lip, reluctant to say anymore and wiped her tears away. "He told me not to say…"

Wesker's brows furrowed. "Did he threaten you?"

Claire nodded. "Yeah. H-he said he would tell Chris and everyone about…_us_, if I didn't spend time with him. He was stalking us. I don't know how long, but he was at my house when you dropped me off—after our dinner at the steakhouse." Claire sniffed and Wesker gave her a box of tissues. She pulled out two and wiped her tears. "He knew what you were wearing, how long we were there…then he confronted me on my doorstep. I-I wanted to tell you, but…I couldn't…"

Wesker's arms shook with rage as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He tried with all his might to control himself, to remain as though nothing happened; any sign of anger would definitely be a hint that Claire had spilled the beans, and Wesker couldn't afford to put her in danger like that. He believed every word that left Claire's mouth, but it wouldn't be wise to confront the young man now. Chris was on alert from their earlier conversation, and Claire had enough stress to wrack her brain for the day; Wesker didn't want to add to it.

_Be patient. Your time will come._

Wesker stood from his seat and stepped over to Claire's side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Dry your tears and take another drink of water. I'll take you home afterwards."

He leaned in close, just above her ear. "You have my word that I will not utter what we've discussed to anyone, especially Chris." His hand rubbed across her back, and Claire couldn't help but arch into his touch. "This is just a thorn in our sides, Claire." He took her chin in his other hand and tilted it upwards; their eyes met, and the younger Redfield couldn't help but feel tingles all over her body.

"I want you to forget about this mess once we leave the office. I promise you that I'll take care of everything."

"What are you going to do?" Claire asked as though in a daze.

Wesker smirked. "Nothing that should worry you."

Claire bit her lip and gave a small nod. "Then I'll leave it up to you, Captain."

The hand resting on her shoulder tightened slightly and then Wesker removed it altogether. "Good."

* * *

Wesker sat in his BMW, blending in the darkness as he watched the scene before him in silence. A Frat House party was booming across the street: rock music knocked against the night sky and amplified every time the front door opened; numerous students had passed out on the lawn while toilet paper and plastic cups littered all the sides. A rather pathetic sight, if Wesker had any say in the matter. No doubt there were tons of drugs along with alcohol being abused inside, but the blond didn't care; he would more than likely see half of the house occupants come tomorrow morning for underage drinking and substance abuse.

"Aw man, you're leaving already?!"

Wesker narrowed in on a pair of students seemingly trying to persuade another to stay.

"Yeah, it' getting late; I gotta go!"

_There you are…_

Greg did some secret handshake with the two and started down the street casually. Wesker put his car in drive and followed him until he stopped at a set of apartments. Wesker quickly parked and trailed after Greg, the shadows holding him close as he made it just as Greg reached the bottom of the stairs.

"My, aren't you out late." Came Wesker's silky voice, causing Greg to whip around in surprise.

"W-what the…?!" He sighed, stepping back as he regarded Wesker with intense eyes. "Wesker? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Taking a stroll." Wesker gave a shrug before crossing his arms. "This country is still free, isn't it?"

"Don't you have a fast tongue…?" Greg scoffed, letting his eyes linger on the stairs. "Well, as much as I would like to stay and listen, I'm gonna head in."

"Just a moment," Wesker called, taking a few steps closer to Greg, who tensed at seeing Wesker's eyes without shades. "I actually have something important to discuss with you."

"Is that so? What about?"

"Claire."

Greg froze. He bit the insides of his cheeks as he stared into Wesker's tormenting eyes. "I hope…is she alright?"

"Why don't you tell _me_? She seems to spend an awful, agonizing amount of time with you. One would think you were dating." Wesker smiled wickedly as he began to pace, eyes to the floor. "You know according to her brother, she hasn't been herself lately. Do you know why?"

Greg tilted his head to the side. "Maybe she's stressed out?"

Wesker kept his smile. He knew Greg was playing a game—one that Wesker was a master at, and although he was good at coming up with decent answers that would throw off anybody else, Greg's body language had betrayed him. His eyes were too wide to be calm, and his hands buried in his pockets constantly picked at the fabric inside; his feet were constantly moving, small taps of the foot here and there. He wasn't a hopeless liar, Wesker admitted, but he was no match for the blond.

Wesker reached into his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes, pulling one out with his mouth and offering the pack to Greg.

He shook his head. "I don't smoke."

"Neither do I," Wesker said and offered once more. Greg hesitantly grabbed one and put the stick between his lips, leaning forward for Wesker to light it. His first puff nearly caused him to cough up his lungs as he held the stick from his face.

"Damn…" Greg took another puff and blew the poisonous smoke from his mouth.

Wesker flicked excess ash off his cigarette before taking another puff and blowing the smoke off to the side. "You get used to it after a while." Another puff from Wesker, only this time, he blew the smoke into Greg's face. The younger man coughed hoarsely and waved the dancing smoke away.

"I thought you didn't smoke?" Suddenly, Greg's body went stiff; his face full of shock, his voice, speechless. Wesker depressed the plunger before removing the needle from Greg's neck and quickly pocketing it. He held onto Greg's collapsed form with an arm around his shoulder. One last drag from his cigarette and Wesker flicked the stick into the darkness.

"You're not the only one who can lie."

* * *

William flinched at Wesker's sudden entry and pulled back from his microscope in concern.

"Set up the equipment and get a table ready," the older blond ordered as he neared William's work station with a large black bag in his arms.

"Always barking orders, Al. Not even a 'Hi, Will, how was your day?' from you." William pushed off the lab table to grab a few sterilized instruments. "I'm actually the one doing most of the work; the least you can do is pretend to be in a good mood." Wesker said nothing as he passed William, whose face scrunched up in confusion when he saw the way the bag was shaped. "Is that a body in there?"

"Clear off this table," Wesker replied, holding the human-shaped bag closer to his chest.

"Answer me, Al; is that a body in there?" Willam asked with a pointed finger, resembling that of a frightened child.

Wesker rolled his eyes and shook his head in utter frustration. "Yes there's a body in here, and if you don't hurry up and clear this table, I just might use you as the test subject. Now move!"

"Hey, no need to get "Captain Wesker" on me, Al," William retorted while removing discarded tools and miscellaneous files from the table. He sprayed some alcohol and wiped the area down. "You stroll in here with a stick halfway-no, all the way up your ass and bark orders at me like you have higher authority." William let the table harnesses hang to the sides and opened his arms wide. "Your table. Bon appetite, Capitan!"

"Your services are dully noted," Wesker mocked. He placed the bag on the table and unzipped it. A harsh light met Greg's unconscious form as Wesker removed it from the bag entirely and strapped it to the table. William came closer for a better view and his features brightened suddenly; he was like a kid in a candy store.

"You…you got a live one?" William ran a hand through his messy hair. "We haven't had one of these, since…"

Wesker couldn't help but smirk as he studied his friend. "I'll let you lead this time. Once he wakes—"

Greg stirred in his harnesses, the table creaking with each movement of his limbs as he opened his eyes to the intrusion of light. He groaned and moved to cover his face, and paused, realizing the hindrance on his body.

Greg shook himself out of his daze in a panic, squirming in place like a helpless worm as he tried to free himself.

"H-help!" His voice was raw and dry, like he'd already been screaming hours before. "Help! Someone!"

"I'm sorry. Is the light too bright for you?" William dimmed the overhead light and moved it to the side. His face entered Greg's line of sight, flashing a toothy grin as he hovered over the young man.

"Where am I?" Greg demanded. "And who the hell are you?"

William tilted his head with a puzzled expression. He sighed. "I guess Al didn't fill you in on the details, huh?" He placed a hand to his chest. "I'm Doctor Birkin and you're here because Albert—"

"William!"

"What? I was only introducing myself."

Wesker appeared on the other side of Greg, fixing the collar around his lab coat with bared teeth. "No, you were running your mouth again."

"Get a load of you, _Albert_," William teased. "Or shall I continue to call you Captain?"

A frustrated grunt formed in Wesker's throat as he rolled his eyes. "You are impossible. Perhaps I really should've killed you the other night." Wesker slipped on a pair of latex gloves, and tossed the box to William.

"Well that's not very nice to say to your one and only friend," he said pulling a pair for himself and setting the box aside.

"Some friend," Wesker murmured behind his facial masked as he placed it over his mouth. He looked down at Greg, cold blue eyes beaming with ferocity; any trace of amusement while he was talking to William had vanished. "I do apologize for our bantering—"

"—your bantering," William added, slipping on his mask while he gathered necessary instruments. He turned his back to Wesker. "Always blaming…" he muttered.

"Nevertheless," Wesker grounded, forcing his attention back on Greg, "you've been personally selected by Dr. Birkin and myself to participate in a once in a lifetime clinical study."

"Is this your idea of a joke, Wesker?" Greg growled as he fought against his restraints. "You win, alright? You fuckin' win. Now let me go!"

"Oh…did you hear that, William? Our guest wants to leave." Wesker drawled his last words, releasing a dry chuckle when William turned to face him, metal tray in hand.

"That's not good." The younger blond leaned over Greg with medical scissors in his hand; he pulled at his shirt and began cutting down the middle until Greg's chest was exposed.

"Stop!" Greg thrashed about. "Stop it! Get the fuck-mmmm—"

Wesker grabbed Greg's mouth and squeezed his cheeks between his fingers, relishing the young man's fear with a smile. William pulled the remains of Greg's shirt from under him and tossed it aside; grabbing a clean scalpel from the medical tray he ran a thumb over the blade and poked it several times at the tip.

"I think we're ready. Shall we play operation, Doctor Wesker?"

Wesker released the young man's mouth. "Not without the main ingredient."

It took William a few seconds to understand before he left for the freezers and returned with a vial, holding it up with his forefinger and thumb. Pulling a sterile syringe from a drawer, William pierced the top of the vile, depressed the plunger and pulled it back, filling the syringe with the T-Virus. He capped the needle and set the syringe inside, taking up the forgotten scalpel in his grasp.

"No. No! Keep away from me!" Greg shouted, arching away from the incoming blade. "Stop!"

Wesker held Greg in place, a delicious smirk upon his lips. "Don't worry; it will all be over soon."

William grazed the scalpel across Greg's ribcage and pressed down, running the blade across and slicing into his flesh. Greg screamed his lungs out, fighting against the restraints as William cut deeper, and in one swift movement, swiped the blade upwards.

"No more, please!" Greg pleaded as tears drizzled down his cheeks. "Wesker, please…please!"

"You're not making this very fun, boy," Wesker mused as he watched with satisfaction. He folded his arms. "Hm. Seems like you got a bit of stubble there." Wesker nodded to William. "Why don't you clean him up?"

William took the scalpel and sliced across his cheekbone, down to his chin, stopping just above his Adam's Apple.

"Ahh, pl-please!"

"Please, more?" William asked as he placed the scalpel on the tray. His fingers wiggled in delight, having difficulty deciding on what tool to use next. "Should I saw an arm off? Maybe pull his teeth out?"

Wesker chuckled darkly. "Now you're thinking like a mad scientist. Why don't you—" Numerous vibrations sounded in his pocket and Wesker fished around for his phone, raising his brows when he recognized the number. He turned away from a whimpering Greg, ordering William to "keep him quiet" while he took his call.

Wesker pulled his mask down. "Yes?" He clenched his jaw, suddenly realizing how forced his answer came out.

"Don't you sound happy…?" Claire teased on the other end.

"I'm always happy," Wesker murmured into the phone. "Don't you see me smiling all the time?"

Claire laughed. "You and your sarcasm... Anyways, I'm sure you're pretty busy, so I'll try to make this quick. I, uh…just wanted to say thank you for listening to me the other day and not judging me." She paused to take a breath. "I really felt better when I went home. I felt…I don't know, happy, I guess." Another laugh escaped her lips.

Wesker pressed the phone closer to his ear. "Happy?"

"Yeah, like I didn't have a care in the world. And with you, I…" Claire trailed off, releasing a sigh on the other end.

"With me, what?" Wesker pressed, sounding more curious than eager to hear Claire's response.

"I was gonna say I think with you, I've…fallen—"

Wesker closed the phone and squeezed it in his palm, before shoving it back in his pocket. What was happening? Claire couldn't have said what he thought, what he dreaded, right? No, she couldn't have fallen _in love_. Not with him. No one fell in love with him. What was the point? He could care less for something he had no desire for. But if that was so, why did his chest feel tight? Why did his stomach ache? Why did the air suddenly become so thin?

_Because you've entered a state of weakness, _his mind taunted. _You said it yourself, emotions make you weak. There is only you and you alone…_

Wesker shook his head. Things were becoming more confusing with each thought, and he swore under his breath. He composed himself and turned to walk back to William and their "experiment." He had an important matter to finish…he'd worry about Claire later.

"Give him the shot, William," Wesker said firmly as slipped his mask back on.

"Can do." William uncapped the syringe and held it to Greg's neck. "Say goodbye to your life…" The needle pierced the flesh with ease, and the virus entered his bloodstream within seconds. Greg began his convulsions, white foam suddenly forming at the mouth, and his eyes rolling back into his head; his joints began to crack, muscles violently spasmed against the restraints.

"Get a sedative ready, William!"

"We don't even know if he's going to make it, Al!"

The harnesses snapped from Greg's expanding torso. His bulged arms and legs flailed furiously as Greg (if he still was Greg) emitted a loud roar—his body crunched and twisted as he made a horrible attempt to stand, resulting in his collapse.

"Gwaaah!" Another foul roar sent William sprinting to the cabinets. Wesker slowly backed up against a lab station, bracing himself as the (now) monster staggered to its feet. A cringing sound like blood being splattered on the floor found its way into Wesker's ears: the monster's right hand molded into a three, pronged-like claw with nails as dark as Wesker's lenses. In one feral swipe, the monster knocked down all the used equipment and sent his still humanoid fist into the operating table.

"Now would be a good time for that sedative," Wesker called over his shoulder in warning.

The monster halted his rampage and eyed Wesker curiously before throwing itself into a rage and stomping on the table until it was misshapen on the ground.

"Got it!" William yelled, causing the monster to look up. It took a few steps forward and cried out in pain, shrieking into the air as its chest split open, revealing an abnormally enlarged heart that continued to beat like a drum.

"Well, use it!"

William was too choked up by his own fear to take another step as he stared compellingly at the creature before him—the creature that was once a human man.

"William, snap out of it!"

"I-I'm…I can't move!"

Wesker eyed the creature and then turned back to William. "Then give it to me, slowly," he replied more calmly, careful not to provoke the monster. William licked his lips and with a deep breath, took his first few steps towards Wesker. The monster immediately caught on and growled as William approached.

"Oh, shit," the younger blond uttered as he saw the huge monster coming for him. "Wesker!" William's scream blended with the monster's own so well that Wesker was sure neither heard the shots that left his gun. He had emptied his entire clip into its brains, hoping that it would do something to the monster. And it did.

The monster fell to its knees, gave a quick glance—one like a dog gives when it tilts its head—and fell to the floor. Unconscious. He wasn't dead. Wesker knew that and he was sure that William's shaking form in the corner knew that. But for now, it would buy them time to sedate it, restrain it, and should any damage have injured it, be it internally, physically, or mentally, they could put it on life support until they figured out what to do with it.

Wesker sighed and holstered his gun on his hip and, running a hand through his hair, wondered how the hell they let it get this bad. He certainly thought Greg wouldn't have had the genes to survive the virus…then again, Greg really didn't; he died and this…thing took over his body on a whim.

"Is…is he…?" William asked as he slowly moved towards Wesker, keeping his eyes on the monster at all times.

"No, he's not," Wesker replied dryly. He grabbed the sedative from William's trembling hand and injected it into the monster's neck. "This won't hold him for very long—give or take forty-five minutes to an hour at the most."

William scoffed and scratched the back of his head, a nervous habit he developed when under stress. "This…I can't believe this…"

"You can't believe the boy turned into a monster or the fact that you were crying like a little girl in the corner? Or perhaps you can't believe what we've managed to create? Hm?"

"I think it's all of the above…" William laughed nervously. "I wish I could say more, but it's so overwhelming."

"Indeed." Wesker regarded the monster with a bit of pride. "What should we call it?"

"You're asking me?"

"No, I'm asking the monster in third-person, William. Who do you think?"

"Hmm…why don't we call it Wesker?"

Wesker gave a baffled look. "What?"

"Why not? He certainly has many of your attributes: he's mean, grouchy, obviously bossy and evil like a tyrant, ugly—"

"That's it."

"You want to name it Ugly?"

"No, you idiot, Tyrant." He looked to the unconscious creature in thought and nodded. "We'll call it Tyrant."

* * *

**Well, here it is! My longest chapter yet! Hope you guys enjoyed it. I apologize for not updating over the weekend as I told some of you, but I came down with a horrible fever and even now I'm still bothered by it. Anyway, there was a lot of drama and BS going on in this chapter, so I hope you're satisfied. I like this chapter, but having been writing it for almost 3 days straight, I think I'll pass on reading it for a while, so if there are any mistakes, I apologize in advance. Just an FYI, this story is coming to a close very soon lol Not sure when, but it's getting there. Thank you to all those who continue to support me, and all those who have stumbled upon this wacky story by chance and have given it a second thought. You have my eternal thanks. Feel free to leave me a review. Remember, they are appreciated, but not required. Any questions, comments, opinions, etc., or if you wanna hit me up on FB, just head to my profile. Thanks a bunch! Until next time! – Lil V :D**

**p.s. And a big hug to **_**residentkilla **_**and **_**Ultimolu **_**for pretty much hitting what happens to Greg right on the nose; I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell you guys until I updated haha Although I'm sure most of you were thinking it…**


	10. Here Lies the Truth

**Hey folks! Well, here it is—the long awaited chapter :P I don't have much to say except that this chapter will set the stage for the mansion ^^ but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. :D Plenty of Wesker/Birkin goodness, here :D**

**My drabble story titled, The People in My Life will be updated regularly, so be on the lookout for updates.**

**A big thanks to all my reviewers and all those who have favorited/followed! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Here Lies the Truth**

Claire scrolled through her text messages, taking note of the last message she'd received from Greg, which was almost a week ago. At first, she thought nothing of it, deciding he was probably mad at her for some unknown reason and the best way to deal with her was to cut off any contact. Yeah, that might've been credible for the first two, maybe three days, but Claire began to worry, surprisingly. It wasn't like Greg _not _to text her; he would always send at least a dozen texts before she started class every day and even those were too much. But now…it was all just—what was the word?—different? Weird? Quiet? Hell, any one of those words could fill in the blank.

Claire's hand flinched at the phone's sudden vibration. It was Chris calling. She sat up in bed and pressed send. "Hello?"

"Claire, are you at home?"

She raised a brow. "Y-yeah. Why? Is something wrong?"

There was a brief moment of silence that made Claire's throat tighten up in anxiety. A sigh came through before Chris spoke again. "We need you to come down to the station. I-" A silent curse echoed into the earpiece. "Look, I'll explain what happened when you get here. Please hurry. And be careful."

The line went dead.

* * *

Claire nearly broke the door off its hinges as she stumbled into the STARS office. Chris hopped off his desk, seemingly glad to see Claire, until he remembered why she had come in the first place, and then frowned, creasing his brows. He looked disturbed.

"What's going on?" Claire asked, and when Chris didn't answer she looked around at Brad, Jill, Joseph, and then landed on Chris again. "Chris? Why does everyone look like someone died?"

"Someone did," came Wesker's deep voice from behind. Claire spun around to see the Alpha captain enter the office with Barry right behind. He kept his eyes down as he shut the door. Claire searched Barry's face and then Wesker's.

"What do you mean, Wesker?" Wesker said nothing right away, and this pissed off Claire the more she stared at her own reflection in the black lenses. She lunged forward and grabbed ahold of his tactical vest, barely managing to pull him towards her. Wesker did nothing but stare, retaining his usual calmness as Claire gave him a few shakes.

"What happened, Wesker, huh?! Tell me!"

"Claire!" Chris reached out to grab his sister, but was halted by Wesker's hand towards him. The captain didn't take his eyes off Claire as he waved Chris back.

"Two days ago, we received a call from Greg's parents, telling us that he hadn't returned home," Wesker began, keeping his tone neutral as he watched Claire's face slowly fall. "Now normally, we have to wait twenty-four hours before we begin our search for a missing person, but considering the circumstances of his mental health, we decided not to take any chances."

"What mental health?" Claire demanded.

"He was easily depressed—couldn't bear the thought of being alone, so he always made sure he was in contact with someone; according to his parents, he attempted suicide twice."

"There's no fuckin' way—" Claire stopped, eyes widening in realization as she thought about Greg's unusual behavior.

_No wonder he always wanted to hang out._

"Around 1:34 this morning, we found his car near the Arklay Mountains— empty, but, oddly, with the keys still in the ignition. Several K-9 units were dispatched to search the area thoroughly, but, unfortunately, they came up empty-handed, with the exception of this…" He held his arm out to Barry, who gave him a bag that was labeled, "Evidence." Inside were the tattered remnants of Greg's shirt, coated with bloodstains down to the frayed ends.

_He had to have been attacked._

"No body was found," Wesker continued, handing the bag to Claire for her to see. "We can assume," he gave a nod, "given the evidence in your hand, that he was either attacked or…"Wesker shrugged, letting Claire fill in the rest. She looked from Wesker to the bag in disbelief. Suicide? No, not him. Fuck what the parents said. "He was pronounced dead around 6:34 this morning."

Claire shook her head. _No_, she thought. _It can't be._ Her eyes began to water to the brim of her lids and pooled over, sliding down her cheeks and onto the floor. She gave a sigh and began to sob, pulling Wesker closer and burying her face into his chest. Without warning, Claire pulled her fist back and punched Wesker in the stomach. He released a short breath of air and took a few steps back, but Claire refused to let him go. She pulled back for another, but Wesker held her at arm's length.

"You fuckin' asshole! You 're just gonna give up looking, because you found his shirt?! How could you?! He could be dying out there!"

"Claire, stop it!" Chris grabbed his squirming sister from behind, struggling until he successfully wrapped his arms across her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. "Calm down," he warned. Claire stopped her squirming, but kept her eyes on Wesker, breathing heavily as the adrenaline burned through her brain.

"I understand how you must feel, Miss Redfield—"

"No you don't!" she growled. "You don't care about anybody but yourself."

"I said calm down," Chris said as he squeezed tighter. "Ok? Are you listening?" Claire gave a short nod. "Alright. I think we need some fresh air—"

"I _don't_ want to go outside, Chris."

"How about the cafeteria? You want a soda? Huh? C'mon…let's get a soda and chill out, OK?" Claire's eyes shot down in thought, away from Wesker, until she nodded. "Good. I'm gonna let you go now…promise me you won't go hitting the captain…"

She looked at Wesker, fire still burning in her eyes. "I promise," she said dryly. Chris released her and carefully pulled the evidence bag from her grip.

"Let's go, then." He let Claire lead, and when they passed Wesker, she didn't look up at him. Chris, however, mouthed a "sorry" as he passed Wesker and gave the bag to Barry before leaving.

"You know she doesn't mean it, Captain," Barry said, crinkling the bag in his hands. "Girls that age are…"he looked around the room as if the word he sought would come out of hiding. "…very fragile. They can break very easily."

_Doesn't that apply to all women? _Wesker almost wanted to smile. _Almost. _"I suppose a man that lives in a house full of females would know what that's like, hm?" Wesker looked down at his vest and resisted touching Claire's near-dry tears. "I don't take it personally. I'm sure she must've felt strongly for that boy…"

_Even in death, the thought of him puts a bitter taste in my mouth._

"I'll speak with her again once she has calmed down. I don't need another Redfield trying to pummel me into the ground out of spite." He nodded to the bag. "Take that down to evidence and make sure everything is accounted for."

"Sure, Captain." Barry turned on his heel and exited the office. Wesker ran a hand through his hair and turned to the rest of his team.

"I'm going to step out for a while. Let Barry know he's in charge until I return. My cell is on if you need to reach me."

Before anyone had a chance to respond, Wesker had already gone.

* * *

Claire crushed the empty can of soda in her hand, keeping her eyes on the table as Chris lectured her…again.

"…was just doing his job, Claire. You didn't need to attack him. What he did was all part of protocol, and he even broke it_ because_ he was your friend. He wanted to find out what happened to Greg, but Wesker can only do so much. If something comes up later on, you'll be the first to know."

Claire sighed, having finally calmed down. "I know, Chris. I shouldn't have hit Wesker; that was very wrong of me. It's not his fault all this shit happened. Like you said, he was just doing his job." She shook her head in shame. "I feel like an ass, you know that? I guess I was just so caught up with everything…and then the way he told me…no emotion whatsoever…" She bit back oncoming tears and turned away.

Chris laid a hand on his sister's. "That's how Wesker is, Claire. He takes his job very seriously. Sure, he might've been a robot back there, but deep down, he's feeling your pain—he feels it even more than you, because he doesn't know how to mend it."

Claire raised a brow. "Are we still talking about the same Wesker? Your captain, right?"

Chris smiled. "Ok, that might've been a little much, but you get what I'm saying…he has to fill sympathy or pity, or something like that; he's just not showing it. He just has to be strong for everyone who puts their faith in him."

Claire looked to the crushed can in her grip and gave a couple nods in understanding. Wesker didn't want to see her cry or feel any pain for Greg's death, but she had the right to know about it; it wasn't Wesker's fault that she nearly broke down in front of everyone. Claire mentally cursed.

_Well, that shit was embarrassing._

"Are you feeling well enough to go home, now?" Chris asked as he placed a hand on Claire's shoulder. She nodded, standing when Chris motioned for her to follow.

* * *

"So, how is our little friend today?" Wesker asked as he eyed the glass tank holding the new Tyrant within.

The sound of a pen scratching against paper sounded as William recorded its vitals. "Oh, you know, he's just floating around." He crossed over to Wesker and handed him a clipboard with a few sheets of data attached. "Everything seems normal. He hasn't been hostile or anything, but he's twitched a few times in the last…" he eyed the clock on the wall, "…what, half-hour or so? Other than that he's just been…well, floating around." He chuckled and ruffled his messy bangs.

"Good." Wesker scanned the data and handed it back to William, turning his attention back on the Tyrant. "They're looking for him," he muttered, absentmindedly.

"Who? The RPD?" Wesker nodded. "Pffft. Well, unless they can make it through those woods without getting lost, they'll have a hard time reaching this facility, and even then they wouldn't find us-er, him." William sat the data on a lab table and leaned back, crossing his arms. "How did the girl take it?"

Wesker raised his eyebrows in surprise, leaning back against the table as well; he regarded William with a confused expression. "The girl? Whatever do you mean?"

William snorted. "C'mon, Al. A hidden motive always accompanies your actions. You must've had a good reason for using this particular boy for our experiment. Perhaps a little jealousy? I mean really, he was good-looking, healthy, had a rough-edge attitude on him…sure he cried until the bitter end, but…"

"But what?" Wesker inquired further.

William furrowed his brows. "But why him? We don't use subjects like him. Everyone we've ever experimented on had something wrong with them, be it physically, mentally—"

"He had depression. He would've killed himself anyway. How's that for 'mentally'?" Wesker's expression went to its usual hardness. "And there was no girl. We just did him a favor."

"Was that your idea of showing mercy?"

Wesker curled his lip in irritation. "Mercy? No. The T-Virus killing him would have been mercy. This," he gestured to the Tyrant, "was the result of our cruelty."

William sat upright, baffled. "_Our_ cruelty? I didn't bring him here, Al."

"But your hand never faltered when it came down to experimenting, did it? The virus entered his bloodstream very quickly, if I do remember." Wesker bared his teeth, almost ready to bite the younger blonde's head off. "And since when did you decide to shed a tear for this hopeless creature, William? This is all sport for you."

William searched Wesker's face in disbelief. "I might've been excited when this Tyrant was created, but I do not find joy or, rather, _satisfaction_, in doing this for, what you call, sport." He put a hand to his chest. "I am a scientist, first and foremost, and my life is dedicated to research not subjecting people to such utter torture in order to purposely amuse myself. I am not _you_, Albert."

"Well, then, unplug the fucking thing, for God's sake! I could _really_ care less, William." He pointed a finger dangerously at his friend. "You have something else coming if you think you can pin this on me."

William put his hands up in defense. "I never said I was pinning this on you, Al." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry…I-I just…I don't do this for sport…you make me sound like a monster." William rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath that sounded as though he was sobbing. "I just haven't slept in God knows how long, a-and I haven't seen Annette or Sherry…" He looked at Wesker with watery eyes. "I'm so close to perfecting G I can taste it, Al." He slapped one of his opened palms. "It's right there—right smack in the middle. I just need a little more time…"

Wesker resisted the urge to scratch his head in confusion. If the captain didn't know any better, he could guess that William was near a mental breakdown; judging by his argument he had tried to better Wesker in, he had a loose screw somewhere in that overworked brain of his. For one thing, William never complained about the subjects, unless, of course, their DNA couldn't handle the virus, which resulted in complete failure and termination of the subject.

Wesker would have to add another tally for William's odd behavior.

The Alpha captain ran a hand through his hair. "William. Is that what this is about?" William hesitated to reply. "Well? Is it or not?"

"Yes…and no."

"What do you mean yes and no?" Wesker growled, pulling William forward by the collar. "I'm not here to solve a riddle. Start talking."

"Y-you want the truth?"

"No, I'm holding you in a threatening matter just to admire your eyes."

"It's about you, Al."

Wesker pulled him closer. "Spit. It. Out," he warned.

William tried to see Wesker's eyes from behind his shades. To his dismay, it was futile. "Do you remember a few months back, when we talked about enhancing human cells, to perfect them to a point where they wouldn't be considered human anymore?"

Wesker's anger started to dissolve. He raised a brow. "I might recall something along those lines. Why?"

William swallowed, bracing himself. "Well, when we finished our discussion regarding this theory, I took it upon myself to 'detour,' if you will, and put aside my G experiments to further research in, what I'd like to call, my Prototype Virus." Wesker's grip loosened slightly. "You see, unlike the T-Virus the Prototype Virus doesn't turn you into a brainless ghoul. Instead, it enhances the cells to perfection—increasing cell division by 200%, which means any damage done to the body will regenerate as though it never occurred. Unfortunately, other than regeneration and reanimation, I didn't have enough time to test for other side-effects or abilities, nor did I have the privilege to test on humans. For all we know, this virus could have a totally different effect compared to the animals."

"Let us infer, then, that if a stray bullet were to pass through my brain—from the frontal to occipital lobes, for example—I would not sustain any damage physically or mentally as a result, correct?"

"Gee, I don't know. During the rat trials, I left my Uzi at home." William shook his head. "Didn't I just say the time allotted wasn't enough to test on humans? Look, all I can tell you is that the body is able to regenerate any physical damage and reanimate, should the unfortunate host die from God knows what. Anything else is up in the air."

Wesker's fingers slipped from the other's lab coat. He tilted his head to the side, absorbing all the information William had fed him, and smirked. "Then it's only right that I become the first human to be tested on."

William looked down and then at the Tyrant. "No, Al. I can't let you do that. It's far too risky."

Wesker couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh? Do I need a permission slip first?"

William's face turned a light pink as he scrunched it in anger. "This isn't funny, Wesker! You could die, you selfish bastard!" William threw a jab, only to have his arm twisted behind him until his back was against Wesker's chest.

"Then why bring it up?" Wesker growled, hot breath searing William's ear. "If this virus has the potential to kill me, why bother telling me about it?"

"Because," William uttered, despite his pain, "I figured you would want to test it on other people—your enemies, not yourself. I-I already told you the results for testing on humans are unknown, so for all we know, the virus might cause you to mutate instead."

"Mutate?"

William struggled against Wesker's brute strength. "Yes, just like the T-Virus. That's the catch. Look what happened to that young man—he became a Tyrant. And what were the odds, hm? What, one in one-hundred, Al? Everyone else before him either died or reanimated to become a brainless fiend."

"Let me put your pitiful speculations at ease, then. I won't mutate, William—"

"You don't know that!" William shouted. "You're not clairvoyant, Al; you don't know what could happen. For all we know, you could inject yourself and never wake up. Do you know what that would do to the company?—what it would do to _me_?!"

"The company doesn't care about me, William."

"Yeah, well I do. You're like a brother to me, Al. And after all these years, do you really think I would just cast you aside as though you meant nothing to me?" He scoffed. "Boy, do I have news for you, pal."

There was a long, dreadful minute of silence until William spoke with soft words.

"That's why I'm afraid, Al. You're the only friend I have…and it would kill me to lose you."

William nearly toppled over upon his release, and rubbed his throbbing arm with a grimace on his face. Wesker placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. He couldn't believe it. Why was everyone admitting their feelings all of a sudden? It was suffocating and troublesome, to say the least. But the more he thought about it, the more he understood where William was coming from: the younger scientist couldn't survive without him, as pitiful as that sounded.

Wesker thought back to the time he told William his lab visits would be less frequent, since he would be spending more time at the police station. The mixed emotions that sailed across William's face were unrecognizable, even for Wesker. Despite the praises and pats on the back he'd received, Wesker could see the despair in William's eyes, and with every visit and departure, the loneliness grew. Even now, William would do whatever he could to prolong Wesker's stay; going as far as to start an argument, knowing he would lose, knowing Wesker would retaliate…knowing Wesker would eventually storm out, allowing the loneliness William had come to dread to take his place once more.

The Alpha captain shook his head in disappointment. "Forgive me, but your delusions of a possible mutation on my part, and your "tear-jerking confession," are starting to give me a headache. Leave all this nonsense alone, William; for both our sakes."

William's face scrunched up in hurt more than anger. "I get it, Al. You're not the type that is open with his feelings, nor do you put your emotions on display for everyone to see, unless you're ready to tear someone's head off. I know. But do not stand there and mock me, because I happen to be the _only _one that cares about you. Whether you feel the same or not, you'll never admit it and I don't expect you to. The least you can do is respect my feelings and consideration for your well-being."

William regained his composure, smoothing out his lab coat, he made his way to the freezer and pulled out a vial labeled, "Prototype," and brought it back. He held up the glass container and gave it a light shake, watching the red liquid splash against the sides. He held it out to Wesker.

"Here. I can't stop you from doing what you want to do." William shrugged, refraining from looking his friend in the eyes. "Just remember what I said, Al. There's only one of you in this world; you have a lot to offer; a lot to gain and a lot to lose." He gestured for Wesker to take it. "Choose wisely."

The older blond didn't hesitate to take the vial as he reached out and took it between his fingers, accidently grazing William's clammy ones as he pulled back. He took great interest in the red liquid and examined it closely, tilting it to the side as though expecting it to change colors with the smallest amount of movement. It did not, of course, but that didn't make the virus any less impressive.

Wesker couldn't help but smile. He'd been waiting for something to give him hope, something that would help him leave his old life behind and start anew with inhuman abilities—according to William, anyhow. But such a big leap of faith also meant there was a chance to fall. Would the virus work? How would it bring him back from the dead? What if it caused his death? Should he go through with it? And if so, how would he execute such a plan; there was so much at risk that it could all blow up in his face.

Wesker pursed his lips in thought before pocketing the vial in his vest, staring absentmindedly at the clock on the wall, until William's shuffling near the Tyrant's tank brought him out of his thoughts. He was back to checking the vitals, returning to his "mad scientist" form like he was before Wesker entered the lab.

"You should go home and rest, William," Wesker said finally, moving to stand next to his partner, admiring the Tyrant behind the glass tube. "He's not going anywhere."

William scoffed and shook his head, removing his sheets of paper from the clipboard. "And neither am I. I'm fine, Al. Just…" he waved Wesker away. "Go where you're _needed_."

William didn't bother to see Wesker's reaction and, instead, turned from him to attend to his goldfish tank in the back of the room. He smiled as he approached, seeing how the fish swam to the surface, eager for William to sprinkle their dried flakes into the water. As soon as he did, the plump fish ate with vigor, sucking up every flake that floated by, and as soon as they finished, they went back to swimming, to minding their own business, to ignoring William. It was then that the scientist felt a sense of loss, a pit of emptiness within his core.

The automatic door sounded behind him, and when he turned, expecting to see Wesker give his farewell, he frowned—there was only loneliness waiting for him.

* * *

Wesker stirred in his sleep for the umpteenth time. Darkness stretched across his muscled form and was quickly replaced by the milky moonlight as he sat up abruptly. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and leaned forward to wrap his arms around his knees, taking in long breaths to steady his heartbeat.

_What's wrong with me?_

Wesker immediately thought back to the argument in the lab, scowling when William's face appeared in his mind.

_You bastard, William. When I get my hands on you—_

Loud buzzing sounded from Wesker's side table drawer. He quickly reached over and grabbed his phone, taking a deep breath before flipping it open.

"Wesker."

He expected it to be his team.

"Al! Thank God you're awake!"

Wesker's teeth grinded together. "No thanks to you," he seethed and craned his neck to see the digital clock read 3:45am. "What do you want?"

"I-I'm sorry, Al, but listen! The rats—they got out!"

Wesker pinched the bridge of his nose. "So set up a trap and kill them," he growled. "I'll be there when the team breaks for lunch. Until then, make sure you stay away." An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. "You know, for a genius, you sure lack common sense. Now if that's all—"

"No, Al! I can't find them anywhere!"

"What?"

"I-I was going to check on them before I left, just to make sure I didn't leave anything open, but when I got to the room, they were gone! They had eaten through the damn cages!"

"So they must've just disappeared into thin air…"

"Will you stop with the fuckin' sarcasm?!" William shouted into the receiver. "This is serious, Al. If they so much as set foot outside, they could spread the infection. There could be a biohazard! Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"

And then it all clicked into place. The Prototype Virus, the insufficient amount of data, Greg's death, and now the loose rats…if Wesker could somehow utilize all these variables to his advantage, then perhaps there was hope after all. All he had to do was create a plan, and that was something he had no trouble with.

"Yes, William. As a matter of fact, it does."

* * *

**So it's not as long as the previous chapter, but hopefully you guys liked it anyways. Yeah, I know, go ahead and hate me for making William the cause for the future outbreak in the forest. I just wanted him to play a more crucial role, since we don't get too much of his participation as a scientist during this incident (aside from his mutation in RE 2). He just kind of disappears into the facility under Raccoon until he becomes a monster later on.**

**As I said, this chapter will set up Bravo's and eventually Alpha's arrival in the forest. So here's what we know:**

**Greg is officially dead, but the cause is still unknown (at least to everyone but Wesker and William), which causes some suspicion since it's in the Arklay area. This makes it a hot spot. Secondly, the rats got out, so they'll be at risk for spreading the infection. I didn't show the dogs escaping yet, but I'll get to that. Wesker now possesses the "Prototype" virus that is responsible for his incredible abilities (as seen in CVX and RE5), thanks to William. Some say it was T, but I've read around and it's not sure what kind of virus it is, other than the default name, Prototype. You know what happens with his injection and all that, which is why the next chapter won't go into too much detail about the mansion itself, but about the splitting of Wesker and Claire. Yes, I said it—SPLITTING! I know, I know, I'm evil ;D**

**Got any questions, comments, suggestions, or if you wanna hit me up on Facebook, head to my profile! Thanks a bunch to all my supporters! GO TEAM WESKER! Until next time! –Lil V.**


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